^>. 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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1.0    !i:H-  1^ 


I.I 


1.25 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


•u  Ki    112.2 
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1.8 


U     11.6 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIM/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


■ 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


.jfe*'»'"«% 


iiiiauiilWUilMUIjJff.'JtliStfBaBWiWMitfji^yi^riww'ulliilHni   n  <m,>ii'iilr^^aiSammi\tim#*m^-'M.-m^^ 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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D 


D 


D 
D 


D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


^ 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommag6e 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
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□    Cover  title  missing/ 
Le 


titre  de  couverture  manque 


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Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


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I      I    Coloured  pages/ 


0 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
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|~~|  Pages  damaged/ 

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C 


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This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film^  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


X 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


ai«^-^W.-.:^-- 


■»««M«i&fe^:^a)«^*- 


ilaire 
IS  details 
ques  du 
nt  modifier 
Kiger  une 
le  filmage 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanlcs 
to  the  generosity  uf : 

'■^         Library  of  Congress 

Photoduplication  Service 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and!  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  iteeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  filmA  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
g6n(ftrositA  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photoduplication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  bxh  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tonu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettstA  da  I'exemplaira  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


»d/ 
IquAes 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  Impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  y  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Les  exempiaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimAe  sont  filmAs  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impresslon  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exempiaires 
originaux  sont  filmAs  en  commen^ant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impresslon  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernlAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


itaire 


(Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  Included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmAs  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffArents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seui  clichA,  ii  est  filmA  A  partir 
de  I'angle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


id  by  errata 
ilmed  to 

iment 

a.  une  pelure, 

le  fapon  d 

>le. 


)X 


1  2  3 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

■    4 

8 

6 

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.s> .. 


i^.-n.ui^ui^fllUlli'  ■.dl'JIr!^ 


BOBBIE  MEliEDlTIl. 


I  I, 


BY 


MRS.   J.   J.    COLTER, 


||!l  M  w 


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Published  by  ^.  i?^//zrt^i^  cS-  ^^. 

(2)oz;£!r,  .V.  //.;  G.  T.  (Day  &  Co. 


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Copyright,  1876,  by  D.  Lothrop  &  Co. 


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CONTENTS. 


%*% 


CHAPTER  I. 

HOMB  RETAINED  .  •  •  •  • 

CHAPTER  II. 

VALUABLE  AID 

CHAPTER  III.      • 

CREDIT •  • 

CHAPTER  IV. 

AT  SCHOOL  .  .  •  •  • 

CHAPTER  V. 

•    DEATH  .  .  •  •  •  • 

CHAPTER  VI. 

SUNDAY  SUITS     .      .    • 

CHAPTER  VII. 

iy  CONVERSION  .  •  •  V         • 


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4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

CHRISTIAN   WOKK  .  .  .  .  .      I06 

CHAPTER  IX. 

CHANOBt •      115 

CHAPTER  X. 

OOIMO  TO  COLLEGE .135 

CHAPTER  XI. 

VACATION 134 

CHAPTER  XII. 

ROME  AGAIN I49 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

DESIRE  TO  STUDY. l($3 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

RETURN •  •      171 

CHAPTER  XV. 

UNIONS •  .      179 


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179 


1^ 


ROBBIE  MEREDITH. 


•*••- 


CHAPTER  I. 

BOMB    XBTAIMBO. 

1 

rT  is  no  use,  Robbie,  we  can't  keep  to- 
gether  much  longer.  I  have  tried  to  do 
evening  for  the  best,  but  work  is  scarce,  and 
times  are  so  hard.  I  am  afraid  we  can't  manage 
to  live  through  another  winter." 

"  But  what  can  we  do,  even  if  we  should  sepa- 
rate, mother  ? " 

"  Helen  can  get  a  situation  somewhere,  per- 
haps, as  nurse-girl,  and  I  am  sure  any  of  the 
farmers  around  wiU  be  glad  to  get  you,  my  son." 

As  she  spoke,  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  bright- 
er) 


r^rr-^'^immmm 


.1-1^ 


u 


^spf 


8 


Robbie  Meredith. 


ened  the  thin,  sad  face  of  the  mother ;  the  most 
careless  observer  could  see  that  her  heart  was 
bound  up  in  the  noble-looking  boy  standing  near 
her  easy  chair. 
"  But  where  will  our  little  mother  go  ? " 
In  spite  of  the  smile  on  the  lips,  and  the  at- 
tempted gayety  in  the  words,  his  mother  saw  a 
twitching  about  the  sensitive  mouth,  and  could 
hear,  too,  a  quiver  of  pain  in  her  boy's  voice. 
Glancing  through  the  open  window  at  her  side, 
over  the  bare  brown  fields  on  which  the  April 
sun  was  fitfully  shining,  she  tried  to  answer  care- 
lessly. 

"  Oh,  there  will  be  no  danger  about  me,  I  can 
get  a  situation  somewhere ;  I  shall  not  care  for 
myself  if  my  childicn  are  only  cared  for." 

"  Your  children  will  care,  though,  my  mother, 
so  don't  let  us  think  of  breaking  up  our  home 
yet;  surely  we  can  manage  someway  through 
the  summer,  and  you  must  recollect  I  am  a  good 
deal  stronger  to  work  than  last  year;  just  wait 
until  you  see  the  crop  I  shall  pUt  in." 


/ 


^K, 


!,..-^:^Li'J^-'-ka.^ 


;iwavssEir£*SsSS's^4SSK?e«5'S5 


'*^- 


ther ;  the  most 
her  heart  was 
standing  near 

ergo?" 

ips,  and  the  at- 

mother  saw  a 
juth,  and  could 
er  boy's  voice, 
low  at  her  side, 
rhich  the  April 
to  answer  care- 
about  me,  I  can 
all  not  care  for 
red  for." 
igh,  my  mother, 
g  up  our  home 
nneway  through 
ect  I  am  a  good 

year ;  just  wait 
[  in. 


Homf  Retained.  9 

Mrs.  Meredith  turned  toward  her  son  with  i. 
more  hopeful  look  in  her  face.  . 

"  Do  you  think,  Robbie,  we  could  do  anything 
alone  ?  I  would  be  willing  to  make  any  sacrifice 
if  we  could  only  keep  together." 

"  Let  us  try,  anyway,  mother,  we  can't  be  much 
worse  off  in  the  fall  even  if  our  crops  should  fail, 
but  I  don't  think  there  will  be  any  danger  of 
their  doing  so.  Farmer  Williams  will  tell  me 
anything  I  don't  know,  and  maybe  help  us  with 
the  ploughing ;  he  has  so  many  men  I  am  wr- 
tain  he  will  let  one  of  them  come  for  an  hour  or 
two  now  and  then  with  the  horses." 

"  Well,  my  son,  you  shall  have  my  consent,  but* 
you  must  let  us  all  help  you.  Helen  and  Mary 
will  be  able  to  do  a  little,  and,  if  God  spares  my 
life  and  my  health  gets  no  poorer,  I  shall  be  able 

to  do  a  little  too." 

"O  mother  1  if  you  will  just  stay  with  us,  and 
brighten  up  our  Home,  we  won't  ask  for  any 

more." 
»  "Why,  Robbie,  where  do  you  think  I  may 


/ 


••"I 


- 1'- 


■feikk 


40 


Robbit  Meredith. 


go  ? "  She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  surprised 
expression. 

"  Oh,  I  am  all  the  time  afraid  you  will  be  float- 
ing off  out  of  our  sight,  up  among  the  angels.  I 
can't  wonder,  either,  that  you  should  wish  to  go 
since  father  is  there." 

The  tears  were  quivering  on  the  lashes  of  both 
mother  and  son  now.  The  one  great  sorrow  of 
the  mother's  life  had  shadowed  her  son's  child- 
hood too.  His  sisters  were  too  young  at  the 
time  of  their  father's  death  to  feel  his  loss  so 
keenly  as  their  brother ;  his  long  sickness,  too, 
had  extended  back,  almost  beyond  their  recoUec- 
»tion,  and,  unlike  Robbie,  they  could  not  recall  the 
happy  days  when  their  father  used  to  make  home 
so  happy  by  his  healthy,  cheery  presence.  How 
gloomy  the  gladsome  time  of  harvesting  made 
their  mother,  they  well  knew,  because  it  was  then 
their  father  received  the  injury  that  ended  in 
death  several  years  afterward.  It  was  not  often 
the  circumstances  of  his  sickness  and  death  were 
the  topics  of  conversation. 


lA 


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•STyS'SuS?:';"^: 


Homt  Retained^ 


U 


:h  a  surprised 

1  will  be  float- 
:he  angels.  I 
lid  wish  to  go 

lashes  of  both 
'eat  sorrow  of 
:r  son's  child- 
yroung  at  the 
:1  his  loss  so 
sickness,  too, 
their  recoUec* 
not  recall  the 
:o  make  home 
sence.  How 
(resting  made 
ie  it  was  then 
liat  ended  in 
was  not  often 
id  death  were 


A 


The  children  loved  best  to  hear  their  mother 
describe  the  happy  days  when  no  heavy  sorrow 
rested  on  their  home ;  when  the  pinching  pov- 
erty, with  which  they  were  now  so  sadly  inti- 
mate, was  unknown ;  when  mother  and  father, 
Robbie,  and  baby  Harry,  who  had  passed  away 
among  the  angels  before  even  Helen  was  born, 
lived  far  away  in  the  vineKiovered  cottage  near 
grandpapa's,  and  when  aunts  and  uncles,  cousins 
and  friendly  neighbors,  met  in  pleasant  inter- 
course, sharing  their  joys  and  lightening  their 
sorrows.  But  after  this  the  dreary  changes  had 
come. 

To  better  his  condition  their  father  had  left 
the  home  across  the  sea,  hoping  to  make  a  richer 
one  in  the  new  world.  For  a  year  or  two  for- 
tune smiled  upon  them,  and  he  had  the  prospect 
of  having  his  best  hopes  realized,  and  then  mis- 
fortune came,  but  not  too  soon  for  him  to  have 
made  warm  friends  among  his  new  associates, 
who  generously  helped  his  heart-broken  wife  care 
for  her  slowly  dying  husband,  and  also  cultivate 


,i 


IS 


Robbie  Meredith. 


a  sufficient  portion  of  land  to  support  the  family. 
Mary  could  just  recollect  her  father's  pale  face 
propped  up  among  the  pillows,  smiling  so  ten- 
derly, yet  sadly,  upon  them  all,  while  she  could 
more  distinctly  call  to  mind  the  dreary  time  when 
the  house  was  filled  with  strange  faces,  and  the 
long,  black  coffin  was  followed  out  through  the 
misty  midsummer  stillness  by  her  mother  and 
Robbie,  with  the  long  procession  of  kindly  neigh- 
bors, leaving  Helen  and  herself  alone  with  kind- 
hearted,  homely  Nancy,  whose  face  was  so  famil- 
iar  where  sickness  and  sorrow  were  found  that, 
to  many  of  the  people,  her  presence  always 
brought  melancholy  recollections. 

But  such  was  not  little  Mary's  experience.  So 
many  delicate  bits  of  cake  and  confectionery  had 
found  their  way  to  her  unaccustomed  lips  from 
Nancy's  voluminous  pockets,  and  so  many  dark, 
solitary  days  in  their  home,  when  their  mother 
was  ill,  had  been  made  pleasant  by  the  self-forget- 
ful old  maiden,  who  waited  on  the  mother  with 
more  than  a  physician's  skill,  brightening  up  the 


t  the  family, 
sr's  pale  face 
ling  so  ten- 
e  she  could 
y  time  when 
ces,  and  the 
through  the 
mother  and 
indly  neigh- 
e  with  kind- 
as  so  famil- 
found  that, 
nee  always 

rience.  So 
tionery  had 
1  lips  from 
many  dark, 
eir  mother 
self-forget- 
other  with 
ing  up  the 


Horn*  Retained. 


13 


lonely  rooms  by  a  score  of  ways,  and,  what  was 
next  to  best  of  all,  telling  them  such  wonderful 
stories  of  her  own  childhood  and  youth,  as  well  as 
of  dozens  of  other  children  who  were  her  play- 
mates then,  but  were  now,  many  of  them,  staid 
heads  of  families  with  grandchildren  as  large  as 
even  Robbie,  that  she  could  only  have  happy 
thoughts  associated  with  her. 

Nancy  had  an  unfailing  stock  of  anecdote, — 
histories  for  which  she  could  vouch,  and  others, 
also,  which  she  could  only  tell  on  trust  —  won- 
derful  ghost  stories  which  would  make  the  blood 
curdle,  and  hair  stand  on  end,  as  she  mysteriously 
related  them,  in  wide,  dimly  lighted  kitchens,  to 
audiences  whose  grey-haired  members  seemed  as 
deeply  interested  as  the  little  boy  or  girl  who 
crouched  tremblingly  near  its  mother's  knee. 
Only  once  or  twice  had  the  Meredith  children 
been  feasted  on  their  friend's  ghastly  fare.  Their 
mother  strictly  forbade  the  narrator  from  telling 
them,  at  the  same  time  commanding  them  not  to 
listen  to  such  stories.    Fortunately  neither  party 


I!    ^*""" 


A 


-*=^"s'WiPlfc"iv< '.-.". 


•  I 


I 


«4 


Hoiiu  Meredith. 


thought  of  violating  her  orders,  else  the  timid 
children  might  have  passed  many  terrible  hours 
of  solitude  in  their  mother's  absence. 

Nancy  could  only  wonder  at  the  strange  pro- 
hibition, at  the  same  time  pitying  the  children 
when  she  believed  they  were  missing  so  much 
useful  knowledge;  as  it  was,  she  tried  to  make 
her  remaining  stories  all  the  more  interesting, 
and  was  generally  satisfied  with  the  result  of  her 
endeavors,  as  she  looked  in  the  eager  faces  of  the 
children  while  drinking  in  every  word  that  fell 
from  her  lips. 

After  awhile  Robbie  seemed  less  interested  in 
what  she  had  to  tell  him,  taking  more  pleasure 
in  the  books  which  had  comprised  his  father's 
scant  library,  or  in  those  he  could  borrow  from 
neighboring  book-shelves,  especially  Mr.  Car- 
thene's,  their  minister,  whose  library  yielded 
him  the  richest  supply. 


sFK;g«ra!?^SPai!ia?fr 


B  the  timid 
rrible  hours 

(trange  pro- 
he  children 
ig  80  much 
ed  to  make 
interesting, 
■esult  of  her 
faces  of  the 
rd  that  fell 

nterested  in 
re  pleasure 
his  father's 
mrrow  from 
'  Mr.  Car- 
try  yielded 


CHAPTER  II. 

VALUABLE  AID. 

^  HE  April  days,  with  their  fitful  brightness 
and  raw  uncomfortable  winds,  were  draw- 
ing to  a  close.  Every  preparation  in  his  power 
for  the  coming  seed-time,  Robbie  had  diligently 
made ;  but,  for  a  lad  of  thirteen  with  but  few  to 
help,  very  little  could  be  accomplished,  except 
multitudinous  planning  with  the  little  mother,  as 
he  had  learned  to  call  her  ^rom  his  father's  play- 
ful teachings.  Very  bright  had  been  his  hopes 
at  first ;  rose-colored  dreams  of  the  autumn  har- 
vesting had  Icept  him  from  actually  sleeping 
many  an  hour  during  the  seed-time.    That  very 


! 


Itf 


Robbif  Mtrtditk, 


day  in  which  his  mother's  consent  had  been 
gained  to  try  to  farm,  he  consulted  farmer  Wil- 
liams and  asked  his  advice.  The  farmer's  an- 
swer was  not  very  encouraging,  but  yet  he  gladly 
told  the  brave,  self-reliant  boy  what  he  thought 
would  be  the  best  seed  for  him  to  invest  in,  at 
the  same  time  generously  proffering  his  assist- 
ance to  help  him  on. 

"  You  may  have  a  team  to-morrow,  and  one  of 
the  hands  can  go  and  help  you  plough,  it  is  high 
time  now  the  ground  was  broken  up ;  we  might 
have  had  it  all  done  in  the  slack  times  in  the  fall 
if  we  had  only  thought,  but  'better  late  than 
never,'  isn't  that  so,"  Bob?"  and  he  laughed. 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  and  if 
you  wil  trust  me  so  long,  some  day  I  shall  hope 
to  pay  you  for  your  kindness." 

"  Oii,  never  mind  the  pay.  Maybe  the  little  I 
do  may  go  to  my  account,  somewhere  that  I  need 
it  more,  than  in  this  world." 

As  he  spoke,  the  round  good-humored  face  of 
the  farmer  sobered  thoughtfully  for  an  instant, 


on' 
he 
go 
gr 

sa 
he 

01 

th 
w 
« 

cl 

tl 

t1 

k 


-.-J Uil.-IUl 


MB 


had  been 
armer  Wil- 
irmer's  an- 
t  he  gladly 
he  thought 
ivest  in,  at 

his  assist- 

and  one  of 
,  it  is  high 

we  might 
I  in  the  fall 
'  late  than 
e  laughed. 
,  sir,  and  if 

shall  hope 

the  little  I 
that  I  need 

red  face  of 
an  instant, 


VeduabU  Aid, 

only  to  ripple  over  again  a  minute  afterward,  as 
he  hastened  to  ask  his  little  friend  where  he  was 
going  to  get  the  seed  that  must  be  put  in  the 

ground. 

"We  have  talked  that  >  :  over,  too,"  Robbie 
said,  while  a  shade  of  sadness  flitted  over  his 
hopeful  face.    "Mother  thinks  Helen  might  go 
out  to  service,  for  a  few  weeks,  among  some  of 
the  farmers,  and  help  us  to  get  a  little  in  that 
way,  and  beside,  we  have  father's  watch  to  sell" 
His  lips  quivered,  but  he  opened  wide  those  soft 
grey  eyes  and  looked  steadily  up  at  the  dark 
cloud  that  was  slowly  bearing  down  towards 
them,  with  the  promise  of  a  threatened  shower, 
thereby  missing  the  compassionate  look  in  the 
kind-hearted  old  farmer's  face,  as  he  said : 

"There's  no  need  of  doing  either.    I  have 
more  seed,  of  every  kind,  than  I  shall  plant 
Dick  may  take  you  a  load  over  to-morrow  w 
he  goes  to  plough." 
Robbie's  eyes  were  too  fuU  to  watch  the  cloud 

any  longer.  . 


mmm 


siammmamKmsmm 


Uii 


18 


Robbit  Mtrtdith. 


True  to  his  promise,  next  clay  an  abundant 
supply  of  potatoes,  with  barley  and  wheat  seed, 
besides  various  packages  of  garden  seeds,  which 
were  consigned  to  Mrs.  Meredith's  care,  found 
their  way  over  to  the  cottage  across  the  lots  from 
farmer  Williams'. 

Dick,  his  handsome,  fun-loving  boy,  went  to 
superintend  operations  as  he  gaily  announced, 
accompanied  by  a  trusty  farm  servant  who  was 
good-natured  enough  to  humor  the  lad's  propen- 
sity for  commanding. 

Such  a  happy  day  as  they  had.  Even  little 
Mary  thought  to  add  her  quota  to  the  general 
fund  of  helpfulness,  by  diligently  assisting  the 
mother  to  prepare  the  unusually  generous  dinner 
for  their  kindly  helpers. 

It  was  only  when  the  stars  began  to  assemble 
across  the  welkin  that  Robbie  was  willing  to 
cease  working,  although  too  tired  to  sleep  for 
hours  afterward.  But  as  he  lay  tossing  wearily, 
the  pleasing  thought  of  the  day's  unhoped  for  ac- 
complishment reconcUed  him  to  the  aches  and 


pa 

be 
he 
ha 
foi 

ca 

wi 
D 
fr. 
er 

8< 

ni 

pi 
w 

lo 

es 


MRHMHIKi. 


n  abundant 
wheat  seed, 
ieeds,  which 
care,  found 
he  lots  from 

joy,  went  to 

announced, 

mt  who  was 

lad's  propen- 

Even  little 

the  general 

assisting  the 

lerous  dinner 

n  to  assemble 
as  willing  to 
to  sleep  for 
ssing  wearily, 
nhoped  for  ac- 
he aches  and 


VatttabU  Aid. 


19 


pains  that  were  the  result  of  his  over-exertion. 
Next  day  he  was  scarcely  able  to  leave  his 
bed ;  and  as  his  mother  bathed  the  hot,  feverish 
head  of  her  boy,  bitter  tears  fell  on  the  soft  curly 
hair,  while  a  fervent  prayer  was  silently  offered 
for  health  and  life  for  her  idolized  child. 

In  a  few  days  he  was  at  work  again,  with  a 
caution  learned  from  severe  experience,  together 
with  the  knowledge  gained,  that  he  was  not  like 
Dick,  or  the  other  lads  in  the  place,  able  to  jivork 
from  morning  till  night  with  such  untiring 
energy. 

A  repining  feeling  would  sometimes  take  pos- 
session of  his  heart,  when  he  was  obliged,  in  the 
midst  of  his  work,  to  rest  under  a  tree  or  lie 
panting  on  the  settle  bed  by  the  kitchen  window, 
while  he  thought  that  not  even  health  was  al- 
lowed him  to  cope  with  the  difficulties  that  so 
early  beset  his  pathway  ia  life. 

"  I  wonder  did  God  plan  it  for  me,  and,  if  so, 
why  did  be  give  me  so  poor  a  chance  ? "  Over 
and  over  again  had  he  asked  himself  this.    "  If 


\1 


nm^^MmttM'^^Ut^ 


MMVaiBMII 


Robbit  Mmdith. 

even  fathc  could  have  lived,"  he  would  murmur, 
"I  would  not  have  minded  being  ill  able  to  work; 
but  how  can  I  ever  manage  to  do  for  mother  and 
the  girls  — my  poor  little  mother.    Oh  I  why  it 

life  so  hard?" 

Notwithstanding  his  fears,  however,  the  crop 
was  got  in,  and  a  noble  one  it  was,  too,  so  all  the 
farmers  united  In  saying.  Other  help  was  given 
beside  what  the  Williamses  so  freely  rendered. 
When  the  people  saw  Robbie  so  anxious  to  help 
his  mother,  their  hearts  were  warmed  toward 
him,  and  they  seemed  anxious  as  to  who  should 

do  most 

Nancy  came  proffering  her  help,  in  the  gen- 
eral contribution,  she  was  not  willing  to  be  left 
out.  Mrs.  Meredith  thought  there  was  nothing 
for  her  to  do,  until  Nancy's  sharp  eyes  detected 
the  unfinished  appearance  of  the  vegetable  gar- 
den, and  it  was  not  long  before  she  had  forced 
the  uneven  beds  into  models  of  neatness  and 
regularity.  Not  satisfied  with  leaving  her  work 
there,  many  a  long  twUight  hour  was  spent  in 


I. 


■Ml 


iMHa 


tuld  murmur, 

able  tu  work; 

r  mother  and 

Oh  I  why  is 

iver,  the  crop 
too,  so  all  the 
elp  was  given 
eely  rendered, 
nxious  to  help 
irmed  toward 
to  who  should 

p,  in  the  gen- 
ling  to  be  left 
:e  was  nothing 
eyes  detected 
vegetable  gar- 
she  had  forced 
:  neatness  and 
iving  her  work 
ir  was  spent  in 


I 


freeing  them  from  weeds,  and  training  the  climb* 
ing  plants  on  poles,  which  she  begged  for  the 
purpose  from  surrounding  neighbors. 

It  could  not  but  pain  the  sensitive  heart  of 
Mrs.  Meredith,  when  her  eye  would  catch  a 
glimpse  of  her  ragged-looking  friend  bending 
over  those  beds,  whose  untidy  appearance  was 
such  an  eye-sore  to  herself,  weeding  diligently 
there  after  a  tiresome  day  spent  at  the  spinning- 
wheel.  Remonstrances  were  vain;  her  cheery 
reply  would  be : 

"Why,  bless  your  heart,  the  breath  of  the 
fresh  air  is  such  a  treat  after  the  greasy  smell 
of  the  spinning-room;  and,  beside,  you  never 
could  keep  all  this  garden  clean.  It  is  enough 
for  a  man  to  tend,  let  alone  a  little  mite  of  a 
woman  like  you." 

Then  she  would  give  vent  to  the  light-hearted 
laugh  that  was  rarely  a  stranger  to  her  healthy 
nature,  at  the  same  time  displaying  the  unsightly 
stumps  of  teeth  that  seemed  never  to  cause  her  a 
pang  dE  mortified  vanity. 


I 


Robbie  Mtredith. 


Thanks  to  Nai^cy,  rather  than  anyone  else, 
the  garden  gradually  assumed  a  prolific  appear- 
ance that  was  the  delight  of  both  Robbie's  and 
his  mother's  eyes,  while  in  the  early  summer, 
many  a  dinner,  that  would  otherwise  have  been 
sadly  deficient,  was  made  sufficiently  comfortable, 
by  the  help  of.  the  mother's  skillful  cookery,  to 
satisfy  the  appetites  of  her  children. 

From  the  adjacent  barnyards,  so  much  top- 
dressing,  as  the  farmers  aptly  call  it,  had  been 
contributed  that  the  grass  on  the  little  farm 
grew  abundantly;  another  cow,  it  was  thought 
by  Mrs.  Meredith's,  advisers,  might  be  safely  in- 
vested  in,  to  keep  company  with  the  gentle  Blos- 
som that  brovv.cd  contentedly  in  the  narrow  strip 
of  pasture  land  at  the  back  of  the  meadow. 

"But  where  can  it  come    from?"     Robbie 
asked,  perplexedly.    , 

"Do  you  mean  the  cow  or  the  money,  my 

son  ? " 

"  It  makes  little  difEerence  which,  mother." 
"  Well,  I  have  thought  of  a  plan,  Robbie,  il 

you  will  agree  with  it" 


L 


i>.*^.-^-«eU^he«ltflifcJW*,MfcMlX-*iV^W.'ii*':i>tiS«ig'^^ 


anyone  else, 
olific  appear- 
Robbie's  and 
irly  summer, 
56  have  been 
f  comfortable, 
111  cookery,  to 

I. 

so  much   top- 
i  it,  had  been 
be  little  farm 
t  was  thought 
t  be  safely  in- 
le  gentle  Blos- 
le  narrow  strip 
meadow. 
>m?"     Robbie 

he  money,  my 

ch,  mother." 
plan,  Robbie,  if 


i 


■ii 


Valuable  Aid. 


23 


"I  am  willing  to  do  anything  you  may  wish, 
no  matter  what  it  is." 

"  I  am  afraid  my  boy  has  too  much  confidence 
in  his  mother's  judgment." 

••  I  can  never  do  wrong,  I  am  sure,  if  1  do  as 
you  wish ;  so  let  me  hear  about  the  cow." 

"  Do  you  think,  Robbie,  we  might  venture  to 
get  one  on  credit,  and  pay  in  small  instalments 
of  butter,  or  anything  we  could  produce  ? " 

"Why,  yes,"  Robbie  answered,  slowly.  He 
was  too  much  surprised  at  his  mother  hinting, 
even,  that  they  should  go  into  debt,  after  the 
life-long  teaching  he  had  received  from  her  lips 
to  the  contrary. 

"  You  don't  think  I  am  getting  demoralized  ? " 
she  said,  playfully,  as  she  saw  the  slighUy  troub- 
led look  on  his  face. 

"  No,  mother,  but  will  it  be  safe  for  us  to  go  in 

debt  so  largely?" 

"  I  think  so,  Robbie,  if  farmer  Williams  is  our 
creditor ;  he  wUl  not  distress  us  about  the  pay- 
ments, I  am  sure  " 


1 

i 
1 

1 

?i 

i 

i 

■  - 

i^ 

24 


Roiiie  MtrtdUh. 


"  Yes,  I  know  that,  mother ;  but  can  we  allow 
ourselves  to  get  so  deeply  in  debt  ?  I  mean  in 
every  way.  See  what  he  is  doing  for  us  all 
along." 

"  Someway,  Robbie,  I  am  coming  to  think  we 
shall  pay  him  back,  principal  and  interest,  some 
day;  and  I  am  certain  what  he  does  for  us  makes 
him  far  happier  than  if  he  spent  it  all  on  himself 
or  family.  God  gives  the  poor  to  the  rich  as  a 
sacred  trust,  for  them  to  look  after.  I  am  com- 
ing to  understand  thi:^  more  clearly  as  I  grow 
older." 

"  I  wonder  if  we  ever  get  rich  will  we  pay  Him 
back,  I  mean  our  Father  in  heaven,  for  all  he  is 
doing  for  us  now  ? " 

"  I  hope  so,  Robbie ;  but  we  need  not  wait 
until  we  get  rich  for  that ;  every  day  the  poorest 
can  do  something  for  God." 

A  long  pause  followed ;  each  seemed,  uncon- 
sciously, to  be  following  out  silently  the  new 
train  of  thought.    At  length  Robbie  said : 

"  Shall  we  help  farmer  Williams  lay  up  more 
treasure  in  heaven,  by  taking  his  cow  ? " 


1. 


'igS^!^SSr~ 


VaAiaUe  Aid. 


25 


can  vie  allow 
i  I  mean  in 
g  for  us  all 

;  to  think  we 
Dterest,  some 
for  us  makes 
ill  on  himself 
the  rich  as  a 
.  I  am  com- 
ly  as  I  grow 

I  we  pay  Him 
},  for  all  he  is 

eed  not  wait 
ly  the  poorest 

eemed,  uncon- 
ntly  the  new 
ie  said : 
i  lay  up  more 
aw?" 


•*  Yes,  my  son,"  was  the  quiet  reply ;  and  with- 
out  more  ado,  Robbie  started  across  the  lots,  on 
the  well-beaten  path,  for  his  friend's  house. 
Soon  Helen  and  Mary  came  tripping  joyously 
down  the  lane,  shouting  to  their  mother  to  come 
and  see  White^ace,  for  Robbie  was  bringing  her 

home. 

« I  didn't  think  he  was  going  to  give  us  one  of 
his  very  best  cows,  mother,"  he  said  as  he  opened 
the  bars  to  drive  her  into  the  pasture  with  Blos- 
som. 

"  It  is  a  gift  to  the  good  Lord  as  much  as  to  us. 
He  will  get  his  hundredfold  reward,  I  hope." 

"  Is  it  a  gift,  mother  ? "  Helen  asked  with  sur- 
prise. 

"  Almost  a  gift,"  Robbie  answered.  •<  He  only 
charges  twenty  dollars  for  her,  and  just  now  she 
is  worth  twice  that  much."  And  so  she  proved 
to  them  before  summer  was  ended. 

With  so  much  extra  milk  Nancy  decided  that 
a  little  pig  was  a  necessity.  So  partly  begging 
one  from  a  rich  old  farmer,  with  whom  she  was 


J 


26 


Robbit  Meredith. 


spinning,  she  walked  proudly  over  in  the  amber 
twilight  cf  a  lovely  June  evening,  with  a  little 
white  piggy,  squealing  along  at  intervals,  in  an 
old  meal  sack  under  her  shawl. 

Mary  begged  hard  (or  permission  to  take  it  to 
bed  with  her  the  first  night  of  its  arrival,  so 
strongly  was  she  drawn  to  the  little  pink-eyed 
stranger.  The  request  was,  of  course,  refused ; 
so  she  was  reluctantly  obliged  to  listen  to  its 
nestling,  from  her  little  bed,  in  the  little  room  o£E 
the  kitchen,  where  piggy  was  kept  for  the  night 
Next  day  Robbie  displayed  hb  carpentering 
ingenuity,  by  buildinjf  it  a  little  stye,  at  which 
the  mother  and  Helen  assisted.  Mary,  too, 
showed  her  anxiety  to  help  by  pounding  her  fin- 
gers, tearing  her  pinafore,  and  making  herself 
generally  wretched. 

For  awhile  her  mother  was  spared  any  labor 
or  anxiety  on  piggy's  account,  while  he  was  kept 
in  such  a  state  of  satisfied  quietude,  by  the  abun- 
dance of  his  diet,  that  she  could  wash,  or  fondle 
him  to  her  heart's  content.    But  it  was  not  long 


\ 


Valuable  Aid. 


V 


the  amber 
vith  a  little 
rvals,  in  an 

to  take  it  to 
arrival,  so 
:  pink-eyed 
se,  refused ; 
isten  to  its 
tie  room  o£E 
)r  the  night 
:arpentering 
^e,  at  which 
Mary,  too, 
ding  her  fin- 
king herself 

;d  any  labor 
he  was  kept 
by  the  abun- 
sh,  or  fondle 
was  not  long 


U 


until  she  tired  of  her  new  playmate.  The  blood 
of  so  many  untrained  ancestors  coursed  in  his 
frame  that  it  was  in  vain  she  endeavored  to 
awaken  a  responsive  chord  in  his  sluggish  breast, 
answering  to  the  lavish  affection  she  poured  out 

upon  him. 

At  last,  haying  time  came.  White-face's  milk, 
supplemented  by  Blossom's,  had  so  far  paid  off 
the  debt  to  farmer  WiUiams  that  Mrs.  Meredith 
began  to  breathe  freely. 

Very  few  such  simple  luxuries  as  tea  or  sugar 
had  been  purchased  during  the  summer,  whUe 
butter  was  such  a  rarity  in  the  economic  house- 
hold,  that  those  were  certainly  red-letter  days  to 
the  chUdren  when  their  table  was  graced  by  the 
golden  prints.    But  they  took,  generally,  without 
a  murmur,  the  skimmed  mUk  and  porridge  for 
breakfast,  with  a  thick  slice  of  brown  bread, 
which  left   them    always   by  dinner    time  so 
healthy  an  appetite  that  their  mother's  stew  of 
vegetables,  with  the  infinitessimal  bit  of  pork,  or 
what  they  liked  very  much  better,  a  treat  of  fresh 


"llilHtfliif ' 


i 


meat  from  a  neighboring  farm-house,  was  eii« 
joyed  as  fully  as  if  their  breakfast  had  been  the 
richest. 

At  tea  time,  generally  with  them  a  misnomer, 
as  not  even  Mrs.  Meredith  could  think  of  allow- 
ing  herself  that  acceptable  beverage  except  on 
rare  occasions,  they  were  obliged  to  be  satisfied 
with  a  bowl  of  milk  and  a  slice  of  toasted  bread. 

Robbie  always  endeavored  to  look  satisfied 
with  his  sometimes  loathed  food,  so  tired  had  he 
grown  of  the  monotonous  bill  of  fare.  But  Mary 
would  ask  now  and  then  for  a  bit  of  cake  or  a 
taste  of  butter  or  moksses.  She  said  one  even- 
ing: 

"  They  always  have  preserves  or  cake  over  at 
aunt's,  mamma,  why  can't  we  have  something 
nice,  too,  does  it  cost  too  much  ? " 

"Yes,  Mary,"  Robbie  answered;  "but  just  be 
patient  a  little  while  longer  and  we  shall  have 
those  nice  things,  too.  Mother  eats  just  what 
we  do,  and  she  never  complains." 

"  Oh  dear,  mamma,  have  I  made  you  cry  be* 


1 


■ 


«,  was  en- 
d  been  the 

misnomer, 
k  of  allow- 

except  on 
M  satisfied 
ted  bread. 
»k  satisfied 
ired  had  he 

But  Mary 
;  cake  or  a 
1  one  even- 

ike  over  at 
something 

but  just  be 
shall  have 
just  what 

^ou  cry  be- 


i 


ValuabU  Aid.  ^ 

cause  I  was  so  ungrateful  ?"  the  poor  child  said, 
when  she  saw  her  mother  struggling  to  hold  back 
the  tears  that  would  come  in  spite  o£  all  her 
efforts.    Robbie's  arms  were  about  her  in  an 

instant 

«  Oh.  mother,  you  don't  think  we  care  what  we 
cat  so  you  are  with  u..  You  think  that  I  shall 
be  able  to  make  you  comforUble  some  day.  don't 

you.  mother  ? " 

There  was  a  painful  uncertainty  in  his  voice. 
He  wondered,  could  his  mother  think  that,  after 
all.  they  must  separate  or  starve?    Surely  every- 
thing  looked  dark  enough  just  then;  but  the 
crops  would  soon  be  ripe,  and  the  pig  fattened, 
and  Whiti^face  paid  for.    As  he  told  all  these 
facts,  he  was  trying  to  argue  away  to  himself,  as 
well  as  his  mother,  the  fears  that  of  late  would 
haunt  him.    The  meal  barrel  so  soon  emptied 
itself,  and  then  there  was  the  wheat  flour,  which 
was  stUl    more   discouraging,  because  of   the 
greater  expense  in  replenishing. 

How  longingly  he  thought  of  the  great  flour 


RobHt  Meredith, 


warehouses  in  the  city ;  wondering,  If  the  nier- 
chants  knew  of  the  hard  struggle  going  on  in 
their  home  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door,  would 
not  they  write  and  send  them  their  summer's 

bread  ? 

A  day  or  two  after  this,  Mrs.  Meredith  sadly 
announced  to  Robbie  that  their  flour  was  all 

gone. 

•?  I  had  scarcely  enough  to  complete  this 
week's  baking.  What  we  shall  do  for  the  next 
few  weeks,  I  cannot  think." 

"  Shall  we  not  try  for  credit,  mother  ?  I  know 
Mr.  Smith  at  the  corner  would  trust  us  for  one 

barrel." 

"  Yes,  Robbie,  and  then  a  debt  of  nine  dollars 
would  be  hanging  over  us." 

"  We  have  the  cows,  mother.  In  a  little  while 
White-face  will  be  paid  for,  and  then  you  can  pay 
for  the  flour." 

•'  I  fear,  Robbie,  we  have  done  wrong  by  keep- 
ing  together;  we  should  all  have  fared  better 
separately."  . 


'^'^^^KI^^SS^^- - 


f 


ValuabU  Aid, 


)t 


f  the  nier- 

>ing  on  in 

loor,  would 

summer's 

>dith  sadly 
ur  was  all 

iplete   this 
9r  the  next 

r  ?   I  know 
>  us  for  one 

nine  dollars 

I  little  while 
jrou  can  pay 

ng  by  keep* 
Eared  better 


"  Why,  mother,  what  could  May  have  done  ? " 
"  Some  one  would  have  taken  us  together;  my 

^ork,  with  the  little  she  could  do,  would  have . 

earned  us  comforublc  £pod,  and  something  to 

wear/' 

"Oh,  mother,  won't  you  try  to  bear  our  pov- 
erty  bravely  a  little  longer  ?    I  am  wre  we  will  ' 
soon  see  better  days." 

The  mother  looked  for  an  instant  in  those 
pleading,  eloquent  eyes.  Two  great  tears  were 
standing  ready  to  fall,  but  he  kept  them  bravely 
back,  ashamed   that   he.  their   bread   winner. 

should  be  so  weak. 
His  mother  said: 

..Forgive  me.  Robbie, for  my  seeming  impar 
tience.  It  is  not  of  myself  I  am  thinking.  I 
would  gladly  live  on  a  crust  to  have  my  children 
with  me;  but  it  nearly  breaks  my  heart  to  see 
you  working  so  hard  on  this  poor  food." 

"It  would  be  harder  for  me  to  be  separated 
from  my  mother,"  he  said,  gently. 

..We  will  all  make  the  best  of  our  privations, 


1^ 


s« 


RobUt  Mtrtdith. 


then,  my  children."  Mrs.  Meredith  replied ;  ••  and 
trust  in  our  heavenly  Father  to  bring  us  safely 
through  this  season  of  adversity.  'At  the  worst.' 
as  Robbie  said  a  good  while  ago, '  we  need  not 
starve.* " 


f^sPSSHSiwliaiwlX  nAi.. 


MMHRil 


eplied ; "  and 
ing  us  safely 
it  the  worst,' 
we  need  not 


R.  SMITH'S  store  was  about  two  miles 
from  the  Merediths. 
That  evening  Robbie  left  o£E  work  earlier  than 
usual,  and  dressing  himself,  he  started  on  his  er- 
rand.   He  did  not  tell  his  mother  what  his  busi- 
ness was,  merely  asking  permission  to  go  over  to 
the  Corner,  which  was  readily  granted.    It  was 
so  seldom  he  seemed  to  wish  for  any  amusement 
she  was  glad  to  hear  him  make  the  request 
With  all  her  anxieties,  not  the  least  one  was  see- 
ing the  early  gravity  that  seemed  settling  over 
her  once  fun-loving  boy. 


■!#, 


i 

1 

' 

Robbie  Meredith. 


It  was  with  much  fear  and  trembling  that 
Robbie  walked  along  the  quiet  road  towards  the 
more  thickly  settled  part  of  their  quiet  hamlet, 
that  constituted  the  nucleus  of  a  future  town, 
which  was  now  only  designated  by  the  humble 

name  of  "  Comer." 

Among  the  various  store-keepers,  his  principal 
hope  for  help  lay  in  Mr.  Smith ;  they  had  usually 
dealt  with  him,  and  Robbie  knew  that  heretofore 
but  little  credit  had  been  asked ;  his  mother  pre- 
ferring to  suffer  for  those  necessaries  of  life 
which  she  could  not  immediately  pay  for. 

The  store  was  full  when  he  went  in  ;  too  late 
he  recollected  that  evening  was  the  time  when 
loungers  were  most  plentiful  about  the  counters ; 
but  the  walk  was  too  long  for  him  to  be  fright- 
ened  away  from  doing  his  business  with  the  mer- 
chant,  so  he  waited  his  turn  with  Mr.  Smith. 

The  honest  lad  could  not  help  fearing  a  little, 
as  he  saw  that  some  who  had  come  in  after  him- 
self were  served  first.  He  could  not  fail  to  com- 
prehend the  reason.    The  appearance  of  the  cus- 


Hi 


Credit. 


3S 


bling  that 
awards  the 
let  hamlet, 
ture  town, 
he  humble 

is  principal 
had  usually 
t  heretofore 
mother  pre- 
ries  of   life 

for. 

in ;  too  late 
!  time  when 
le  counters ; 

to  be  f  right- 
vith  the  mer- 
■,  Smith, 
aring  a  little, 

in  after  him- 
>t  fail  to  com- 
ce  of  the  cus- 


tomers betokened  wealth ;  the  daintily  dressed 
ladies  with  the  little  girl  and  boy  must  be  the 
grand  folks  who  had  come  to  stay  a  few  weeks  ai: 
Squire  Jennings',  during  the  strawberry  season, 
and  of  whom  Nancy  had  been  telling  them  so 
much. 

Such  quantities  of  candies  as  they  bought, 
how  much  he  coveted  just  a  taste  to  take  home 
to  Helen  and  Maryl  His  longing  must  have 
been  strongly  expressed  in  his  eyes,  for  the  girl 
happening  to  look  at  him  whispered  to  her 
brother,  and  a  minute  after  came  and  offered  him 
a  handful,  which  she  poured  from  the  open 
paper. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  softly,  but  his  face  ex- 
pressed more  eloquent  thanks  than  his  lips  could 
frame.  "He  looked  shyly  in  the  face  of  the  little 
maiden ;  was  it  the  glow  of  momentary  benevo- 
lence on  her  face,  or  was  it  the  innate  goodness 
that  always  shone  there  ?  He  did  not  wait  to 
analyze  the  expression,  but  then  and  there  gave 
her  the  silent  and  humble,,  yet  lasting  devotion  of 


I 


Robiie  Meredith. 

his  boyish  heart;  a  moment  after  the  party  left 
the  store.  It  seemed  to  Robbie  one  of  the  num- 
ber  had  left  a  ray  of  sunshine  behind  that  lighted 
him  aU  the  way  home,  while  its  brightness  re- 
mained with  him  for  weeks. 

His  turn  to  be  served  came  next,  and  with  a 
beating  heart  Robbie  stepped  up  to  the  counter, 
when  Mr.  Smith  said: 

"  Well,  my  boy,  what  do  you  wish  ? " 
The  words  were  not    unkindly  spoken,  but 
there  was  a  sharp  ring  in  the  voice  that  spoke  of 
a  selfish  nature,  and  which  made  the  sensitive 

lad  still  more  shy. 

"Could  you  let  my  mother  have  a  barrel  of 

flour  a  few  weeks  on  credit  ? " 
«♦  Who  is  your  mother  ?  *' 
"Mrs.  Meredith,  at  the  Dale  farm." 
"Really,  my  boy,  I  don't  care  to  trust  her; 

not  but  that  she  has  always  paid  me.  but  the  last 

time  I  saw  her  she  looked  as  if  she  would  hardly 

outlast  a  barrel  of  flour." 
A  flush  of  anger  and  misery  spread  over  the 

boy's  face  as  he  said : 


Eissass^Sii 


Credit. 


37 


eredith. 

ent  after  the  party  left 
Robbie  one  of  the  num- 
line  behind  that  lighted 
while  its  brightness  re- 

ks. 

came  next,  and  with  a 
jpped  up  to  the  counter, 

do  you  wish  ? " 
t   unkindly  spoken,  but 
n  the  voice  that  spoke  of 
hich  made  the  sensitive 

mother  have  a  barrel  of 
edit?" 
r?" 

le  Dale  farm." 
don't  care  to  trust  her; 
ways  paid  me,  but  the  last 
ked  as  if  she  would  hardly 

r." 

id  misery  spread  over  the 


"There  will  be  enough  left  to  pay  you.  sir." 

"  I  don't  doubt  that,  but  times  are  hard,  and  I 
might  have  so  long  to  wait,  the  interest  would 
swallow  up  the  principal." 

"Don't  be  too  hard  on  the  boy,  Smith,"  a 
rough  voice  spoke  from  the  back  store,  and  as 
Robbie  looked  up  he  saw  a  large,  red-whiskered 
man  coming  towards  them.  He  knew  then  it 
was  Mr.  Smith's  partner,  and  his  hopes  began 
instantly  to  rise. 

"  Let  him  have  a  barrel  of  flour,  or  you  will  be 
getting  the  widow's  curse,  man.  I  wish  all  our 
customers  were  as  honest  and  safe  as  that  boy's 

mother." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  Robbie  gasped,  and  then  he 
shut  his  mouth  firmly  for  fear  he  might  say 
something  tragic. 

"Very  well,  you  can  have  your  own  way,  but 
you  may  see  to  collecting  it." 

"  All  right,"  was  the  good-humored  reply  of 
Phalen,  the  kind-hearted  Irishman,  whose^  ready 
tact  and  obliging  disposition  had  already  won 


a^*"        ■  .-*-i-->^r-.'.v:^t"i^ 


■  •t^ik<t*t.^f'!V¥a^l*m,--»f 


Robbie  Meredith. 

him  a  good  situation  in  America,  whither  he  had 
come  only  a  few  years  previously,  with  pockets 
innocent  of  a  single  shilling. 

«Tell  your  mother  she  can  pay  in  butter  or 
anything  most  convenient,  and  she  needn't  hurry 

herself,  either." 

"Thank  you,  sir."  This  was  all  the  thanks 
Robbie  could  manage  to  utter,  but  Phalen  was 
satisfied,  however,  with  that  slight  expression  of 
gratitude,  as  he  saw  the  quivering  lip  and  glisten- 
ing eye  of  the  scarcely  more  than  chUd  to  whom 
be  had  lent  the  helping  hand. 

Robbie  started  for  home,  calling  on  his  way  at 
farmer  Williams'  to  ask  if  he  would  let  his  team 
bring  it  down  when  next  they  were  up  on  busi- 
ness to  the  Corner. 

« One  of  the  hands  is  going  up  to-morrow 
with  a  load  of  meat,  and  he  shall  bring  it  down 
in  the  empty  cart,"  the  farmer  replied,  so  that 
Robbie  was  able  to  go  rejoicing  home. 

His  mother  was  getting  uneasy  about  him,  it 
was  so  unusual  for  Robbie  to  be  gone  so  long. 


tredith. 

merica»  whither  he  had 
reviously,  with  pockets 

J  can  pay  in  butter  or 
,  and  she  needn't  hurry 

lis  was  all  the  thanks 
»  utter,  but  Phalen  was 
hat  slight  expression  of 
[uivering  lip  and  glisten- 
lore  than  child  to  whom 
land. 

ne,  calling  on  his  way  at 
£  he  would  let  his  team 
:t  they  were  up  on  busi- 

is  going  up  to-morrow 
I  he  shall  bring  it  down 
;  farmer  replied,  so  that 
ejoicing  home. 
;ing  uneasy  about  him,  it 
bie  to  be  gone  so  long. 


Credit. 


39 


Helen  and  Mary  were   both  up  with  their 
mother,  and  their  pleasure  was  quite  unbounded 
when  Robbie  came  bursting  into  the  room,  with 
the  good  news  that  at  least  one  barrel  of  flour 
was  sure,  and  with  the  additional  luxury  of  some 
candy  for  each.    Mary  was  more  overjoyed  with    * 
that  than  with  the  flour  that  was  to  come  on  the 
morrow.     Robbie  tried    to  divide   the    candy 
equally  with  his  mother  and  sisters,  leaving  no 
share  for  himself. 

"Why,    Robbie,   where   is   yours?"    Helen 

asked. 

« It  was  pleasure  enough  for  me  to  bring  it  to 
you,  and  to  have  it  given  to  me  by  the  dear  little 
child,"  he  said,  rather  loftily. 

«  We  can't  let  you  be  so  easily  satisfled,  Rob- 
bie ;  you  must  take  my  share.  I  lost  my  fond- 
ness for  sweetmeats  long  ago,"  his  mother  said, 
as  she  laid  her  share  in  his  hands. 

"  Let  us  have  it  between  us,  then,  mother,"  he 
said,  casting  a  hungry  look  at  the  tempting  bite. 

"Very  well,  dear,"  she  said,  but  she  managed 
it  so  that  he  got  nearly  all. 


1 


Robbie  Meredith. 

The  next  Jay  Robbie  had  the  pleasure  of  roll- 
ing the  flour  in  to  his  mother.     He  dispensed 
with  the  tnan's  help  who  had  offered  to  take  it 
in,  and  independently  replied : 
"  No,  thank  you,  I  can  manage  it  mystilf." 
But  it  was  quite  too  much  for  his  unaided 
strength,  and  his  mother  and  even  Helen  had  to 
be  called  to  the  rescue  before  it  was  safely  stored 
away  in  the  pantry. 

"  Never  mind,  mother,  after  we  have  got  a  few 
more  in  here,  I  shall  be  able  to  do  without  your 
help,"  he  said,  encouragingly,  as  he  ruefully 
watched 'her  panting  after  the  unusual  exertion. 

"I  know  that, my  son, if  you  don't  kill  yourself 
in  the  meantime,"  she  smilingly  answered. 

.  And  80  the  gladsome  sunny  days  of  midsum- 
mer wore  on.  White-face  gave  her  generous 
supply  of  milk.  The  scent  of  clover  blossoms 
from  farmer  Williams'  rich  meadow  lands  helped 
her,  Robbie  thought,  to  overflow  the  bucket  with 
her  foamy  offering,  while  Blossom,  too,  seemed 
to  thrive  better  for  her  companionship. 


"{Ill 'J  ijjy 


eredith. 

id  the  pleasure  of  roll- 
nother.  He  dispensed 
)  had  offered  to  take  it 
lied : 

manage  it  mystilf ." 
much  for  his  unaided 
and  even  Helen  had  to 
fore  it  was  safely  stored 

after  we  have  got  a  few 
able  to  do  without  your 
igingly,   as  he    ruefully 
ir  the  unusual  exertion, 
if  you  don't  kill  yourself 
nilingly  answered, 
sunny  days  of  midsum- 
Eace  gave  her  generous 
cent  of  clover  blossoms 
ich  meadow  lands  helped 
overflow  the  bucket  with 
ile  Blossom,  too,  seemed 
companionship. 


Crtdit. 


0 


White-face  was  so  nearly  paid  for  now  that 
Mrs.  Meredith  ventured,  the  next  week,  on  send- 
ing  Robbie  to  the  Comer  with  a  load  of  butter 
and  eggs  as  a  first  payment  on  their  new  debt 

The  evening  was  fair,  with  the  moon  just  ris- 
ing as  he  left  home.  His  mother  and  Helen  ac- 
companied him  part  of  the  way  to  assist  in  carry- 
ing the  basket,  Helen  eagerly  pleading  to  go  all 
the  way,  but  her  suit  was  denied  by  Robbie. 

••  1  should  be  ashamed,"  he  said,  "  to  take  my 
litUe  sister  on  such  an  errand.  The  boys  would 
laiigh  at  me  if  they  saw  her  carrying  this  bas- 
ket" 

His  mother  and  Helen  i^ad  scarcely  got  out  of 
sight,  by  the  bend  of  the  road,  on  their  way  home 
again,  when  a  handsome  carriage  and  pair  of 
horses  came  driving  leisurely  along  the  road. 

Robbie  changed  his  basket  to  the  other  hand, 
and  stepped  aside  on  the  greensward  for  them  to 

pass. 

The  scent  of  flowers  filled  the  air,  already  vi- 
brating with  the  songs  of  the  robin,  and  linnet. 


■  «*< 


wn" 


Robbit  Miredith. 


and  others  of  the  feathered  warb'ers,  pouring 
forth  their  strangely  sweet  vespers  to  a  generally 
inattentive  audience  of  busy  farmers,  with  equally 
industrious  families;  but  to-night,  the  crowded 
carriage  had  brought  out  those  whose  ears  and 
hearts  were  alike  open  to  the  delights  of  the 
beautiful  country,  whether  animate  or  otherwise. 
Robbie  was  glad  to  see,  among  the  brightly 
dressed  people,  the  little  golden-haired  girl  that 
had  so    thoughtfully  remembered   him  ia  the 
store.    He  lifted  his  hat  politely;  his  mother's 
careful  training  had  kept  all  the  booris^ness  out 
of  his  manners,  that  hard  work  and  common 
play-fellows  would  naturally  give  him,  and  he  war 
glad  to  see  that  his  simple  act  of  courtesy  had 
not  passed  unnoticed. 

More  than  one  gracious  smile  responded  to  his 
bow,  while  there  was  a  particularly  kindly  look 
from  the  little  girl  upon  whom  his  eyes  were  un- 
consciously fastened. 

A  moment  after  they  had  passed  out  of  sight ; 
but,   somehow,  Robbie   felt   his   basket   grow 


Uth. 

I  warb'ers,  pouring 
jspers  to  a  generally 
iarmers,  with  equally 
^night,  the  crowded 
hose  whose  ears  and 
the  delights  of  the 
uiimate  or  otherwise, 
among  the  brightly 
olden-haired  girl  that 
mbered    him  ia  the 
)olitely;  his  mother's 

II  the  booris^ness  out 
I  work  and  common 
r  give  him,  and  he  war. 
s  act  of  courtesy  had 

smile  responded  to  his 
irticularly  kindly  look 
hom  his  eyes  were  un- 


Cndit. 


43 


id  passed  out  of  sight ; 
Eelt  his   basket   grow 


lighter,  and  the  road  seemed  le«i  hot  and  dusty. 
The  moon,  too,  was  beginning'  to  shine  more 
clearly  along  the  way.  as  the  twUight  glow  faded 
from  sky  and  river.    Almost  before  he  was  think- 
ing  of  finding  his  basket  burdensome,  Mr.  Smith's 
store  was  in  sight,  and  with  a  heart  far  lighter,  if 
his  load  were  heavier,  than  on  the  previous  even- 
ing.  when  he  stepped  so  timidly  across  the  foot- 
worn  threshol(f,  he  entered,  feeling  himseU  already 
almost  a  man  as  he  placed  his  basket  on  the 

counter. 

This  time  his  turn  to  be  waited  on  came  sooner 
than  before.  Phalen's  quiet  eye  caught  sight  of 
the  lad  whose  cause  he  had  so  warmly  espoused, 
and  glad  to  see  so  early  an  installment  on  the 
debt,  he  went  to  him  speaking  kindly,  while  his 
genial  Irish  face  was  lighted  up  with  a  bcnevo- 

lent  smile. 

The  butter  was  duly  weighed,  the  eggs  counted, 
and  the  credit  placed  opposite  his  mother's  name 
on  the  book,  when  Phalen  said : 

"  Your  bill  has  come  down  two  dollars  and  a 


J 


JRobM*  Mertdith. 


half,  already.    Smith  wUl  find  my  customers  are 
the  best  pay  going." 

When  farmer  Williams'  man  came  for  Robbie's 
flour,  he  had  told  Phalen  of  the  struggle  the  Mer- 
ediths had  to  keep  the  home  together,  and  the 
generous  fellow  felt  his  heart  warming  towards 
the  noble  boy,  whom  he  was  glad  to  help.  Every 
other  week  Robbie  went  to  the  store  with  his 
butter  and  eggs  until  White-face  was  paid  for, 
and  after  that  the  weekly  offering  was  deposited 
regularly  in  Phalen's  hands. 

New  entries  were  made  on  the  debit  side  of 
the  book  against  Mrs.  Meredith,  but  the  credit 
side  kept  pace  steadily  with  the  debit    Then 
Robbie  felt,  after  a  fresh  supply  of  flour  had  been 
laid  in,  with  the  few  other  necessary  articles  his 
mother  hud  commissioned  him  to  purchase,  that 
an  occasional  investment  in  some  little  luxury  for 
her  use  was  warrantable.    It  was  after  this  that 
he  rarely  returned  with  an  empty  basket ;  but 
his  mother  could  not  tell  her  boy  to  cease  mak- 
ing his  purchases.    She  always  shared  such  deli- 


dith. 

id  my  customers  are 

an  came  for  Robbie's 
the  struggle  the  Mer- 
ne  together,  and  the 
art  warming  towards 
glad  to  help.  Every 
to  the  store  with  his 
ite-face  was  paid  for, 
iffering  was  deposited 

on  the  debit  side  of 

redith,  but  the  credit 

ith  the  debit    Then 

ipply  of  flour  had  been 

necessary  articles  his 

him  to  purchase,  that 

1  some  little  luxury  for 

It  was  after  this  that 

n  empty  basket ;  but 

her  boy  to  cease  roak- 

iways  shared  such  deli- 


Crtdii. 


4S 


cacies  with  her  children,  and  felt  assured  that  the 
small  outlay  would  be  amply  repaid  in  strength- 
ening  her  boy  for  his  daily  labors,  which,  after 
the  hay  was  stored,  became  lighter.  It  was  none 
too  soon,  either,  that  relief  shoulu  come;  the 
long  summer's  work  and  anxiety  had  told  heavily 
on  Robbie's  slight  frame. 

His  form,  naturally  erect  and  well  made,  was 
getting  a  painful  stoop,  and  .he  could  not  see  that 
he  had  grown  an  inch  since  spring. 

One  rainy  day  as  they  were  sitting  ia  the  clean 
comfortable   kitchen,    busily   engaged   knitting 
socks  for  market,  with  Robbie  reading  aloud  to 
them,  Mrs.  Meredith  interrupted  him  by  saying: 
«  Don't  you  think,  Robbie,  we  could  afford  to 
hire  a  man  to  help  us  in  harvesting?    It  is  too 
hard  work  for  you  to  do  alone,  and  we  must  not 
expect  any  further  help  from  our  neighbors." 

« But  we  must  remember  the  long  winter," 
Robbie  said,  thoughtfully. 
« I  do,  my  son,  it  is  not  out  of  my  thoughts 

many  hours  at  a  time." 


J 


4<  Robbit  Mtrtdith, 

"  Well,  mother,  if  we  can't  get  on  alone,  rather 
than  have  the  crops  injured,  I  will  be  willing  to 
hire  a  man ;  but  I  should  like  to  do  what  I  can 
myself,  it  will  be  so  much  clear  gain." 

"  Yes,  Robbie,  of  money,  but  I  fear  not  of 
your  health.  We  can  all  help  in  gathering  the 
rootfc ;  even  Mary  can  pick  up  potatoes,"  As 
she  sp^ike  the  mother  stroked  the  flaxen  hair  that 
was  so  apt  to  get  such  tiresome  tangles. 

They  did  all  work  diligently  from  dawn  till 
dusk,  but  even  then  they  could  not  perform  all 
the  work  that  was  awaiting  a  speedy  accomplish- 
ment, and  Robbie  was  beginning  to  acknowledge 
the  fact  sadly  to  himself,  as  he  looked  over  the 
rapidly  ripening  grain  fields,  and  the  dry  stalks 
of  the  early  blighted  potatoes. 

But  every  cent  seemed  to  have  two  ways  it 
needed  to  go ;  and,  alas,  their  cents  were  so  ter- 
ribly few,  and  then  a  man's  wages,  even  for  one 
day,  would  cost  so  much. 

One  morning  Robbie  attempted  to  rise  early 
•  as  usual,  but  as  he  lifted  his  head  from  the  pil- 


tditk. 

t  get  on  alone,  rather 
d,  I  will  be  willing  to 
like  to  do  what  I  can 
lear  gain." 

y,  but  I  fear  not  of 
help  in  gathering  the 
k  up  potatoes,"  As 
d  the  flaxen  hair  that 
>me  tangles, 
intly  from  dawn  till 
ould  not  perform  all 
a -speedy  accomplish- 
in  ing  to  acknowledge 
he  looked  over  the 
i,  and  the  dry  stalks 
s. 

0  have  two  ways  it 
ir  cents  were  so  ter- 
wages,  even  for  one 

srapted  to  rise  early 
s  head  from  the  pil- 


Crtdit. 


47 


low,  a  dizzy  sensation  came  over  him,  and  he  was 
forced  to  lie  down. 

It  was  so  bard.  Just  then,  he  felt,  to  be  sick. 
The  Uttle  stiip  of  wheat  which  had  been  his 
pride  and  hope  all  through  the  summer  discour- 
agements had  been  cut  two  days  before.  He  and 
Nancy  had  managed  to  reap  it  between  them, 
it  must  be  confessed  Nancy  doing  much  the 
larger  share,  and  to^ay  he  bad  planned  to  get  it 
turned,  and  perhaps  housed,  if  the  day  were  hot 
enough. 

He  lay  a  uile  and  then  made  another  attempt, 
but  it  was  unavailing ;  his  head  swam  so  that  he 
feared  to  trust  himself  to  take  a  step.  Soon  he 
heard  his  mother's  step  on  the  stair ;  he  brushed 
away  the  tears  that,  in  spite  of  himself,  had  been 
gathering  in  his  eyes. 

"  Is  Robbie  sick  ? "  she  asked,  cheerily. 

"  Just  a  little;  mother,  but  I  shall  be  able  to 
get  down-stairs  by  and  by." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  was  the  anxious  en- 
quiry.   She  knew  it  must  be  something  unusual 


Ki 


fhtisn 


48 


Robbie  Meredith. 


or  he  would  not  lie  in  bed  this  day  that  he  con- 
siufcfed  so  important 

"  It  is  only  my  head  that  troubles  me ;  I  must 
have  worked  too  hard  to  keep  up  with  Nancy. 
What  shall  we  do  if  I  can't  get  up  ?"  he  abked, 
piteously. 

After  all  he  was  only  a  boy,  and  he  could  not 
hide  all  his  fears,  even  from  his  mother. 

"  If  you  only  get  well,  Robbie,  we  won't  mind 
the  wheat.  I  ought  not  to  have  allo;yed  you  to 
work  so  hard.  Oh,  what  shall  I  do  if  you  leave 
me?" 

"  You  needn't  "be  afraid  for  me,  mother,  I  am 
only  tired.  I  have  no  mind  to  die  just  now,  and 
leave  you.  In  an  hour  or  two  you  will  see  me  as 
busy  at  work  as  ever." 

The  mother  shook  her  head  sadly  as  she 
bathed  his  hot  feverish  head.  While  they  were 
talking  together  over  their  dark  future,  and  won- 
dering where  they  could  turn  for  help,  Helen 
came  rushing  up-stairs,  with  the  glad  news  that 
there  were  three  rata,  down-stairs  come  to  help 
them. 


Credit. 


49 


ay  that  he  con- 
es me ;  I  must 
ip  with  Nancy, 
jp  ? "  he  abked, 

td  he  could  not 

other. 

we  won't  mind 

allo;yed  you  to 

do  if  you  leave 

e,  mother,  I  am 
ie  just  now,  and 
11  will  see  me  as 

sadly  as  she 
/hile  they  were 
iuture,  and  won- 
:cr  help,  Helen 
glad  news  that 
rs  come  to  help 


"You  said,  mother,  that  God  world  provide," 
Robbie  said,  reverently,  as  he  turned  his  bright- 
ened face  toward  her. 

"  Yes,  my  son,  and  we  must  never  doubt  his 
goodness  again,  no  matter  how  dreary  our  pros- 
pects may  be." 

As  she  was  leaving  the  room  Robbie  called 
her  back.  "  Tell  them,  mother,  that  our  Father 
in  heaven  will  reward  them,  some  day." 

"I  will  tell  them,  Robbie,"  she  replied,  and 
then  hastily  left  the  room.  A  moment  after  he 
heard,  thrcagh  the  thin  partition  that  separated 
his  mother's  bed-room  from  the  one  he  occupied, 
her  voice  in  prayer.  He  could  not  distinguish 
the  words,  but  he  felt  assured  it  was  thanksgiving 
his  mother  was  offering  for  mercies  given. 

It  was  not  long  after  his  mother  had  gone 
down-stairs,  until  Helen  came  up  with  the  glad 
tidings  that  the  men  had  gone  to  the  wheat  field, 
and  then  she  brought  the  still  better  news  that 
they  expected  to  get  the  harvest  all  stored  that 
day. 


r*^ 


J 


I 


Rcidie  Mtreditk. 


"  And,  O,  Robbie,"  she  added,  "  I  aaw  a  tear 
in  Ben's  eyes  when  mother  told  them  what  you 
said;  he  says  he  don't  want  any  better  pay. 
Wasn't  that  good  for  him  to  say  ? " 

Robbie  did  not  make  any  reply,  he  turned  his 
face  to  the  wall,  and  Helen  could  not  think  that 
he  was  crying. 

"Maybe  you  want  to  go  to  sleef.?"  she  said, 
after  vainly  waiting  for  an  answer. 

"I  would  like  to  be  alone  awhile,"  he  said, 
bravely  trying  to  steady  his  voice. 

Stealing  quietly  out  she  went  with  a  frightened 
face  to  her  mother. 

"  Can't  we  send  for  a  doctor,  mother  ?  I  am 
afra.d  Robbie  is  going  to  die." 

The  happy  look  faded  from  the  mother's  face 
as  she  asked : 

"  What  makes  you  tliink  so,  Helen  ? " 

"  He  seems  so  quiet,  and  then  he  didn't  appear 
a  bit  glad  that  they  have  come." 

"  Robbie  does  not  show  all  he  feels,  and  maybe 
it  was  his  very  gladness  and  gratitude  that  kept 
him  from  talking." 


i 


k. 

d,  "  I  3aw  a  tear 

d  them  what  you 

any  better  pay. 

ply,  he  turned  his 
lid  not  think  that 

ileep?"  she  said, 
ter. 

awhile,"  he  said, 
ce. 

with  a  frightened 

9r,  mother  ?    I  am 

the  mother's  face 

Helen?" 

n  he  didn't  appear 

n 

e  feels,  and  maybe 
gratitude  that  kept 


!    I 


Credit. 


51 


"  I  did  not  know  that  to  feel  glad  made  us  cry, 
and  I  am  almost  sure  he  was  crying,"  she  replied, 
more  mystified  than  ever. 

That  night  their  harvesting  was  completed, 
and  when  Mrs.  Meredith  went  tc  ly  good-night 
to  Robbie,  he  said  to  her,  half  shyly : 

"  Might  not  we  thank  our  heavenly  Father  for 
putting  it  into  their  hearts  to  come  and  work  for 
us  to-uay,  mother  ? " 

"  Wm  you  thank  him,  Robbie  ? "  she  replied, 
at  the  same  time  kueeling  beside  him,  her  exam- 
ple silently  followed  by  Helen  and  Mary,  who 
exchanged  wondering  glances. 

A  moment'."  silence  ensued,  and  thci  in  tram- 
bling  voice  Robbie  uttered  his  few  words  of  thank- 
fulness for  all  God's  mercies,  particularly  for  the 
blessing  that  had  crowned  that  day  with  glad- 
ness, and  then  fervently  implored  God's  protect- 
ing care  for  the  whole  journey  of  life,  and  that 
they  might  at  last  become  a  family  complete  in 
heaven.  He  ended  by  repeating  "  Our  Father." 
A  silence  ensued  in  which  the  children  believed 
they  could  hear  their  mother  weeping. 


IWISE*! 


J 


;f 


) 


"  Shall  I  ask  her  why  she  cries  ?*'  Mary  whis- 
pered  to  Helen.  * 

"Hush,  dear,"  was  the  softly  whispered  re- 
sponse. As  Helen  raised  her  head,  Mary  won- 
dered as  she  saw  that  her  sister,  too,  was  crying. 
Soon  the  loving  good-night  was  spoken^  and 
Robbie  was  left  alone  with  the  silent  compan- 
ionship of  the  stars.  The  harvest  moon  he  knew 
was  somewhere  shining  among  the  trees,  al- 
though unseen  by  him ;  it  was  only  the  brighter 
constellations  he  could  distinguish  in  the  far 
northern  heavens. 

Peaceful,  happy  thoughts  filled  his  heart,  as  he 
lay  on  his  lowly  cot ;  he  could  feel  now  that  the 
Saviour  whom  he  had  been  earnestly  seeking 
was  his  friend.  That  very  day,  alone  in  his 
room,  he  believed  the  word  of  pardon  had  been 
spoken  to  his  soul,  while  in  his  prayer  that  even- 
ing a  partial  acknowledgment  had  been  made. 
The  joy  he  felt  was  so  deep,  the  peace  so  unut- 
terable, that  long  after  the  hush  of  night  had 
fallen  over  field  and  forest,  his  thoughts  were 


•t,,,,..;». 


es  ?  •'  Mary  whis- 


tly  whispered  re- 
head,  Mary  won- 
r,  too,  was  crying, 
was  spoken;  and 
le  silent  compan- 
est  moon  he  knew 
ng  the  trees,  al- 
only  the  brighter 
iguish  in  the  far 

• 

ed  his  heart,  as  he 
feel  now  that  the 
earnestly  seeking 
day,  alone  in  his 
pardon  had  been 
i  prayer  that  even- 
t  had  been  made. 
the  peace  so  unut- 
lush  of  night  had 
his  thoughts  were 


Crtdit. 


S3 


still  busy  in  planning  what  he  might  do  to  ex- 
press his  gratitude  to  his  newly  found  Redeemer. 
No  wonder  the  calm  was  sweet,  coming  as  it 
did  after  the  tempest,  through  which  his  frail 
bark  had  been  wearily  tossing  in  its  conflict  with 
the  powers  of  darkness  that  had  assailed  his  soul 


irasnnanaMHaPMl 


1 


'    if 


t*=>*V 


CHAPTER  IV. 


AT   SCHOOL. 


JAYS  glided  swiftly  on.  In  a  few  days 
Robbie  was  as  well  as  usual  —  even  bet- 
ter, for  the  rest  his,  mother  compelled  him  to 
take  left  him  better  able  to  begin  his  school  du- 
ties. 

When  all  his  work  had  been  completed  for  the 
autumn,  the  last  root  safely  stored  in  the  cellar, 
the  house  earthed  about,  so  as  to  keep,  as  far  as 
possible,  Jack  Frost's  saucy  fingers  away,  with 
the  other  preparations  which  every  country 
householder  finds  necessary  to  perform  in  our 
cold  climate,— when  these  had  been  completed, 
Robbie  began  to  think  anxiously  of  his  vacant 
seat  in  the  red  school-house  away  over  the  hills. 


A 


J. 


In  a  few  days 
usual  —  even  bet- 
impelled  him  to 
in  his  school  du- 

lompleted  for  the 
ed  in  the  cellar, 
o  keep,  as  far  as 
igers  away,  with 
every  country 
perform  in  our 
been  completed, 
ly  of  his  vacant 
y  over  the  hills. 


At  School. 


55 


To  be  sure,  it  was  a  long,  cold  walk  in  the  pinch- 
ing winter  days,  but  the  same  energy  that  ena- 
bled him  to  perform  a  work  in  the  grain  and 
potato  field  that  was  the  admiration,  and  perhaps 
envy,  of  every  parent  farmer  in  all  the  country 
side,  made  him  equally  energetic  in  getting  what 
knowledge  it  was  possible  for  him  to  gain. 

"  I  never  expect  to  be  anything  better  than  a 
farmer,"  he  explained  to  his  mother,  as  he  urged 
eagerly  his  request  for  directly  beginning  his 
studies,  before  taking  what  she  deemed  the 
needed  rest,  "  but  then  I  want  to  be  an  intelli- 
gent one.  I  can  be  a  great  deal  better  fitted  for 
even  that  work  by  knowing  everything  I  can  find 
time  to  learn,  and,  besides,  my  winters  are  get- 
ting so  sadly  few  for  school  going,"  he  added, 
somewhat  ruefully.  ' 

"  I  know  that,  Robbie,  but  they  will  be  still 
less  if  you  work  yourself  into  your  grave  before 
your  time."' 

"  Is  it  good  to  be  always  talking  about  the 
grave,  mother?    I  hope  I  don't  fear  it  now,"  he 


J!^ 


I- 


I 


l! 


t 


I 


Roitu  Mtrtdith.  ' 

said,  reverently ;  "  but  tlien,  I  do  not  want  to 
think  that  every  little  breath  of  wind  may  thrust 
me  into  it." 

He  soon  carried  his  point,  and  the  next  Mon- 
day morning,  bright  and  early,  he  was  up  per- 
forming his  tasks  so  cheerily  that  his  mother 
wondered  did  he  love  knowledge  so  well,  pitying 
him  his  few  opportunities  for  gaining  it. 

Helen  was  to  accompany  him  on  fine  days, 
before  the  severe  weather  set  in  and  the  deep 
snows  came.  Fully  an  hour  earlier  than  was 
necessary,  they  were  ready  to  start,  and  the  boy- 
ish impatience  that  had  not  been  wholly  crushed 
out  by  hard  work  forced  him  to  urge  the  tardy 
Helen  along  as  well 

"  ^aybe  I  can  find  where  the  morning's  lesson 
is  and  get  mine  learned  before  the  school  opens," 
he  said  to  his  mother;  he  was  ashamed  to  let  her 
know  how  eager  he  was  to  be  back  among  his 
books. 

A  new  teacher  had  taken  the  place  of  "  Irish 
Tiir,"  as  he  was  irreverently  styled  by  hi"  pupils, 


'  ^^   I  -V^ 


i.  ■ 

do  not  want  to 
wind  may  thrust 

id  the  next  Man- 
he  was  up  per- 
that  his  mother 
e  so  well,  pitying 
ining  it. 

m  on  fine  days, 
in  and  the  deep 
earlier  than  was 
tart,  and  the  boy- 
in  wholly  crushed 
to  urge  the  tardy 

morning's  lesson 
he  school  opens," 
shamed  to  let  her 

back  among  his 

e  place  of  "  Irish 
/led  by  hi?  pupils, 


At  School. 


§7 


who  had  been  teacher  there  for  years.  His  day 
was  now  gone  by,  and  ill  as  it  was  for  himself,  it 
was  none  too  soon  for  the  little  flock  whom  he 
ignorantly  tried  to  instruct 

His  successor,  although  but  an  indifferent 
scholar,  was  regarded  by  his  .children,  and  Rob- 
bie among  the  foremost,  as  a  pattern  of  perfec- 
tion. 

He  was  a  young  man  of  obscure  parentage, 
but  of  an  ambitious  turn  of  mind,  and  quite  ain- 
timental  withal,  who  had  once  thought  to  be  a 
teacher  would  satisfy  the  deepest  craving  of  his 
heart,  but  who  had  already  found,  when  only  in 
the  third  term  of  his  longed-for  employment,  that 
there  were  other  heights  beyond  for  which  he 
ardently  sighed. 

.  To  be  a  city  lawyer  was  the  thought  and  aim 
that  now  occupied  nearly  every  waking  moment, 
and  so  filled  with  the  idea  had  his  brain  become 
that  he  found  it  necessaiy  to  unveil  to  even  un- 
sympathizing  eyes  the  dream  that  had  taken  pos- 
session of  him. 


..t* 


I  I 


5« 


Roi6u  Mtrtdith. 


In  Robbie  he  found  an  attentive  listener ;  al* 
lowitig  no  such  brilliant  hopes  to  take  possession 
of  his  fancy,  knowing  how  vain  it  would  be  (or 
him  to  think  of  getting  more  than  the  plainest 
education,  with  his  mother  and  sisters  to  sup- 
port ;  but  it  did  not  lessen  the  pleasure  he  took 
in  listening  to  his  friendly  teacher's  brilliant  an- 
ticipations. 

"  It  will  be  so  grand  a  calling  to  give  justice  to 
the  poor,"  Robbie  said  one  day  after  listening  to 
his  companion's  expected  greatness.  "  I  have 
thought  sometimes  I  should  like  to  be  a  lawyer, 
or  minister,  or  something,  so  that  I  could  help 
others ;  after  knowing  so  well  what  a  sad  thing 
it  is  to  be  poor  and  weak,  I  think  I  could  do  so 
better." 

"I  want  to  be  rich  to  be  happy  myself;  I 
never  thought  much  about  what  I  could  do  for 
others,"  was  the  selfish  response. 

"  Maybe  you  have  never  known  how  blessed  it 
was  to  receive  a  helping  hand  in  some  sore  time 
of  need,"  Robbie  said,  with  a  scarcely  concealed 


At  School. 


S9 


ve  listener;  al* 
take  possession 
it  would  be  (or 
an  the  plainest 
sisters  to  sup- 
leasurc  he  took 
r's  brilliant  an* 

3  give  justice  to 
fter  listening  to 
less.  "  I  have 
I  to  be  a  lawyer, 
It  I  could  help 
hat  a  sad  thing 
k  I  could  do  so 

ippy  myself;  I 
t  I  could  do  for 

(1  how  blessed  it 

some  sore  time 

urcely  concealed 


shudder,  as  he  thought  how  many  times  the  wolf 
had  been  turned  from  their  doors  by  a  neigh- 
bor's hand. 

"Well,  yes,  I  have  needed  help  as  much  as 
most  persons  at  my  age,  and  have  had  it  from 
very  unexpected  sources,  too;  but  someway  I 
never  think  of  others  as  being  in  like  circum- 
stances with  me,  besides,  I  can't  find  time  to  look 
after  everyone." 

'•  I  cannot,  cither,  I  can  only  help  my  mother ; 
but  what  I  do  for  her  makes  me  so  happy  I  wish 
sometimes  I  could  extend  the  circle  of  my  help- 
fulness. I  am  sure  the  Bible  speaks  truly  when 
it  says, '  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  re- 
ceive. 

Robbie  was  afraid  to  say  anything  further  lest 
his  teacher  might  think  him  intrusive ;  he  could 
only  hope  that  he  might  soon  learn  this  first  les- 
son in  the  Christian  life,  the  duty  of  not  living  to 
ourselves  alone. 

The  school-days  went  happily  by ;  Robbie  did 
not  find  it  difficult  to  attend  White-face  and 


-,{SSP»-- 


HHHHMIBi 


'    I 


60 


Robbi*  Miftditk. 


Blossom,  bringing  to  his  mother  their  daily  offer- 
ing, which  hitherto  had  gone  so  far  towards  mak- 
ing them  easy  in  their  straitened  finances.  Now 
the  basket  he  carried  to  Phalen  at  the  Comer  be- 
came every  weel;  lighter  to  bear,  and  a  little  be- 
fore Christmas  his  mother  made  the  sad  an- 
nouncement that  once  a  fortnight  at  most  would 
suffice  for  him  to  go. 

Fortunately  they  were  free  of  debt;  White- 
face  was  paid  for  and  the  account-book  at  the 
Corner  at  least  showed  no  debit  against  them ; 
indeed  Phalen  had  told  Robbie  on  his  last  trip 
there  that  the  credit  was  crossing  to  the  other 
side  the  book ;  but  then  there  was  but  a  small 
supply  of  flour  in  the  little  kitchen  pantry,  and  as 
for  groceries  they  were  becoming  sadly  precious 
in  the  frugal  mother's  eyes;  however,  a  good 
cellar  of  potatoes,  with  other  vegetables,  were 
hidden  away  from  Jack  Frost's  icy  fingers,  while 
Mary's  pink-eyed  piggy,  long  ago  outgrown  from 
her  cleanly  affections,  was  silently  curing  in  the 
pork  barrel  up-stairs. 


beir  daily  offer- 
r  towards  male- 
inances.  Now 
the  Comer  be- 
and  a  little  be- 
e  the  sad  an- 
at  most  would 

debt;  White- 
nt-book  at  the 
against  them ; 
)n  his  last  trip 
g  to  the  other 
as  but  a  small 
t  pantry,  and  as 

sadly  precious 
)wever,  a  good 
egetables,  were 
y  fingers,  while 
outgrown  from 
y  curing  in  the 


Hi 


At  School. 


dl 


They  could  live  without  butter,  and  sugar,  and 
tea,  Mrs.  Meredith  said  over  and  over,  reassur- 
ingly to  herself,  as  she  daily  took  stock  of  their 
slender  winter  store ;  but  it  was  hard  to  think  of 
being  on  allowance  for  bread,  but  Robbie  would 
•oon  get  their  small  grain  crop  to  mill,  now  that 
the  farmers  were  getting  their  fall  work  done, 
and  could  lend  him  a  hand  in  thrashing  it,  and 
which  with  economy  might  be  made  to  last  two 
or  three  months,  and  then  she  resolved  not  to 
think  of  the  long  hungry  spring.  The  Lprd 
would  provide  someway.  The  fulness  of  the 
whole  earth  was  his,  while  the  widow  and  orphan 
were  his  especial  care. 

Robbie  could  not  help  wondering  at  the  peace- 
ful gladness  that  shone  so  constantly  now  in  his 
mother's  face.  His  own  faith  was  so  strong  in 
his  new-found  Father  in  heaven  he  could  only 
hopcit  was  from  the  same  unfailing  source  his 
mother  found  her  strength. 

It  was  not  many  weeks  until  Robbie  regained 
his  place  at  the  head  of  the  different  classes  in 


J 


['^M^:^mii;i)ii-l'iaii»:.^  j^da^iKM^M'i&'i^^y'  'ir-fi^isiii^.- 


§ 


■ 


Ui 


■I 

1 


62 


Robbie  Meredith. 


the  school,  much  sooner,  indeed,  than  he  had  ex- 
pected. 

So  eager  was  his  haste,  and  so  ready  his  brain 
for  receiving  knowledge,  that  before  the  winter 
was  nearly  completed,  his  teacher  found  that  he 
was  ahead,  not  only  of  his  most  advanced  pupils, 
but,  what  was  not  very  agreeable  to  himself,  that 
he  was  rapidly  approaching  the  terminus  of  his 
own  scan"  supply  of  educational  stock.  The 
greatest  obstacle  found  in  the  way  of  study  was 
the  short  term  of  daylight  when  out  pf  school. 
No  matter  how  long  before  daylight  his  work 
might  begin,  the  inoment  arrived  only  too  soon 
when  he  must  leave  for  the  school-house  where 
fresh  duties  uwaited  him. 
.  Anxious  to  supplement  their  income  by  a  few 
dollars,  he  had  assumed  the  task  of  lighting  the 
fires  and  keeping  the  school-room  in  order,  a  bur- 
den that  sometimes  seemed  heavy  enough  ^a  he 
trudged  bravel)f  along  through  cold  and  storm. 

He  had,  it  is   true,  long  winter  evenings  at 
hor.c  when  he  might  have  studied,  but  candles 


eM»M»L^*a.0^imi 


han  he  had  ex- 

■eady  his  brain 

ore  the  winter 

found  that  he 

Ivanced  pupils, 

0  himself,  that 
srminus  of  his 
,1  stock.  The 
r  of  study  was 
out  gi  school, 
ight  his  work 

only  too  soon 
ol-house  where 

come  by  a  few 

1  lighting  the 
in  order,  a  bur- 
r  enough  fis  he 
1  and  storm. 

r  evenings  at 
:d,  but  candles 


At  School. 


63 


and  oil,  like  every  other  luxury  except  love,  were 
too  scarce  in  their  home  to  be  used  so  lavishly. 

The  little  mother  and  Helen  could  see  to  knit 
by  the  open  fire-light,  while  Robbie  was  obliged 
to  content  himself  with  the  same  poor  illumina- 
tion, assisted  only  by  the  troublesome  light  ob- 
tained from  birch  bark,  large  rolls  of  which  he 
hunted  up  every  spare  holiday. 

Mary  did  not  often  weary  with  attending  to  his 
quickly  consuming  light  on  the  heai  h,  while  he 
lay  beside  her  with  book  or  slate  eager  to  im- 
prove each  flickering  gleam  it  afforded ;  but  the 
dust  man  generally  came  around  6arly  in  the 
evening,  when  she  was  unwillingly  obliged  to 
yield  to  his  power,  so  that  Robbie  often  for 
hours  tended  his  bark  while  he  iearned  difficult 
lessons  and  stern  ones,  too,  of  economy  and  per- 
severence.  The  summer'.s  training  of  self-reli- 
ance was  greatly  stfengthened  by  the  winter's 
mastery  of  difficult  lessons. 

It  was  not  text-book  knowledge  alone,  or  les- 
sons of  thrift,  that  he  acquired  by  the  evanescent 


^^-«!r«?-- 


Robbie  Meredith, 

light  of  pine  knot  or  birch  bark,  at  the  quiet 
hearthstone  where  his  mother  diligently  plied  her 
needles,  but  what  was  even  better  than  these,  a 
determined  strength  of  will  to  overcome  even  the 
most  obstinate,  and  what  might  seem  next  to  in- 
surmountable, obstacles  that  lay  in  the  way  of  his 
advancement  to  a  greatly  desired  goal.  As  his 
mother  watched  him  in  the  flickering  light  that 
threw  fantastic  shadows  along  her  humble  kitchan 
wall,  it  was  not  strange  if  she  pictured  for  her 
eager  determined  boy  some  bright  future  in  the 
great  busy  world  that  lay  beyond  the  narrow 
confines  of  their  qiiiet  village. 


vmgffii 


at  the  quiet 
fitly  plied  her 
than  these,  a 
ame  even  the 
:m  next  to  in- 
he  way  of  his 
roal.  As  his 
ng  light  that 
imblekitchin 
tured  for  her 
future  in  the 
I  the  narrow 


.^tMMU 


CHAPTER  V. 


DEATH. 


HE  short'  winter  days  slipped  only  too 
quickly  by  to  suit  Robbie's  heavily 
planii^  list  of  studies  to  be  accomplished  before 
the  early  seed-time  should  begin.  He  worked 
hard,  too  hard  his  friends  thought,  but  their  fears 
did  not  find  an  answering  chord  in  his  breast 
It  only  made  him  study  the  harder  while  in  the 
school-room,  that  he  might  have  the  less  to  do  at 
home  when  he  knew  his  mother  was  anxiously 
watching  him ;  but  when  his  home  duties  were 
all  completed,  he  found  it  a  hard  matter  to  gain 
rest,  or  recreation  in  complete  idleness. 
He  came  in  from  the  barn  earlier  than  usual 


J 


^•' 


e6 


Robbie  Meredith. 


one  bright  evening  in  the  early  part  of  March, 
and,  with  a  joyous  ring  in  his  voice  that  glad- 
dened his  mother's  heart,  exclaimed : 

"  Hurrah  I    I  have  finished  my  winter's  stint." 

"  How  so,  Robbie  ?"  and  the  mother  cast  an 

amused  glance  at  the  small  supply  of  wood  that 

occupied  the  place  of  a  generally  rauch  larger 

heap. 

"  Oh,  never  mind  the  wood,  mother,  to-morrow 
is  Saturday,  and  I  shall  cut  plenty  of  wood  then, 
but  won't  you  be  glad  to  hear  that  I  have  fin- 
ished the  stint  I  gave  myself  in  my  studies  when 
I  began  to  go  to  school  ?  I  was  afraid  then  I 
couldn't  do  it,  but  I've  got  it  done,"  he  exclaimed 
with  greater  eagerness  than  elegance. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  accomplished  what  you 
wished,  but  would  it  not  be  well  for  my  son  to 
practice  something  that  he  learns,  and  make  a 

more  careful  selection  of  the  words  he  uses  ?" 
"  When  I  am  happy  I  don't  think  how  I  speak, 

and  I  do  feel  so  glad  to-night,"  and  he  threw  him- 

down  on  the  settle  bed,  clasping  his  arms  under 

his  bead  for  a  pillow. 


Deatk. 


^ 


y  part  of  March, 
voice  that  glad- 
ned: 

y  winter's  stint." 

mother  cast  an 

>ply  of  wood  that 

allyrauch  larger 

lother,  to-morrow 
ity  of  wood  then, 
that  I  have  fin- 
my  studies  when 
as  afraid  then  I 
ne,"  he  exclaimed 
ranee. 

iplished  what  you 
ill  for  my  son  to 
arns,  and  make  a 
>rdsheuses?" 
hink  how  I  speak, 
tnd  he  threw  him- 
ig  his  arms  under 


"  I  am  very  glad  for  my  son's  happiness,"  and 
the  little  mother  smiled  contentedly  as  she  laid 
the  dishes  on  the  snowy  cloth,  preparing  for 
their  evening  meal. 

"  It  is  not  right  to  trouble  about  the  future, 
when  I  am  so  happy  in  the  present ;  but,  oh,  I 
would  so  like  to  atudy  for  yeaT ;  there  are  so 
many  things  I  should  like  to  know.  After  I  had 
'finished  my  lessons  to<lay  in  school,  I  took  up 
one  book  after  another  and  looked  through  to  the 
end,  and  with  the  look  there  came  a  little  pain  to 
think  their  secrets  would  always* remain  a  mys- 
tery to  me." 

*'  Maybe  not  always,  Robbie." 

••  Why,  mother,  what  do  you  mean  ? " 

"Do  you  not  think  that  in  heaven  all  these 
studies  will  be  pursued  by  those  who  love 
them?" 

« I  never  thought  of  that"  He  paused,  thought- 
fully looking  up  at  the  bright  sunset  sky,  and 
then  said,  a  slight  flush  mantling  his  cheek : 

"  If  I  get  to  heaven,  maybe  I  won't  care  so 


J 


68 


Robbis  Meredith. 


I ' 


mtich  for  the  knowledge  we  think  so  much  of  on 
earth,  and  maybe  I  let  my  heart  get  set  too  much 
upon  my  studies  while  I  think  too  little  about  a 
better  knowledge,  that  of  the  love  of  God." 

« I  have  been  thinking  more  about  that  lately, 
Robbie,  than  ever  I  did  before,"  his  mother  an- 
swered softly,  "and  it  seems  to  me  all  my  anxie- 
ties have  grown  lighter  since  I  began  casting 
them  on  the  Lord." 

"  I  believe,  mother,  I  have  been  losing  ground 
rather  than  gaining,  lately ;  any  kind  of  prosper- 
ity, I  fear,  must  be  injurious,  and  getting  along 
well  in  my  studies  is  a  kind  of  prosperity,  I  sup- 
pose;  besides,  I  find  more  things  to  try  my  pa- 
tience  at  school.    Some  of  the  larger  boys  im- 
pose  on  the  rest  of  us.    I  do  not  mind  so  much 
for  myself,  but  there  is  lame  Peter,  some  of  the 
big  boys  tease  him  so,  and  if  I  try  to  stop  them, 
they  begin  calling  vat  young  parson  or  littU  hypo- 
crite, so  that  sometimes  I  just  clinch  my  fists  I 
get  so  angry.    Do  you  think  I  can  be  a  real 
Christian  and  feel  that  way,  mother  ?  " 


k  80  much  of  on 
ret  set  too  much 
30  little  about  a 
e  of  God." 
ibout  that  lately, 
"  his  mother  an- 
me  all  my  anxie* 
I  began  casting 

;n  losing  ground 
r  kind  of  prosper- 
id  getting  along 
prosperity,  I  sup- 
igs  to  try  my  pa- 
e  larger  boys  im- 
ot  mind  so  much 
eter,  some  of  the 

try  to  stop  them, 
rson  or  little  hypo- 

clinch  my  fists  I 
:  I  can  be  a  real 
Jther?" 


Dtatht 


69 


He  raised  himself  on  bis  elbow,  looking  anx- 
iously toward  her. 

" '  Be  ye  angry,  and  sin  not,'  is  one  of  the  Bible 
precepts.  Oppression  and  wrong  of  any  kind 
may  kindle  our  just  indignation ;  the  sin  is  in 
giving  away  to  it  violently.  I  hope  you  will 
never  yield  so  far  to  your  feelings  as  to  fight  with 
any  of  your  school-mates,  no  matter  what  may  be 
the  provocation." 

The  lad  sighed  heavily,  and  laying  down  in  his 
former  position,  he  said : 

"  I  will  try,  mother,  but  it  is  hard  to  see  poor 
Peter  knocked  down,  and  his  crutches  thrown 
away  in  the  snow,  just  for  fun  as  the  boys  say,  to 
see  him  crawling  for  them,  or  his  little  sister 
Sally  wading  through  the  deep  snow  after  them, 
with  her  little  pinched,  hungry-looking  face  red 
with  the  cold  and  tears  that  are  always  there 
when  Peter  is  getting  teased." 

"Well,  why  do  not  you  go  and  get  the 
crutches?" 

"I  do,  mother,  but  they  beat  me  too,  if  I  do. 


iim 


t^ 


Robbit  Meredith. 

and  then  I  am  generally  a  good  ways  off  wn  n 
they  do  it." 

"  But  why  do  ycu  not  tell  the  teacher  ?" 

"  I  have,  but  he  docs  not  seera  to  mind  what 

the  rich  boys  do.    They  generally  act  as  they 

please,  and  it  makes  it  harder  for  the  rest  of  us." 

••  Never  mind  yourself,  Robbie,  only  try  and 

take  the  part  of  the  weaker  ones." 

"I  do  try,  mother,  but  I  cannot  do  much 
alone.    I  wonder  why  it  is  so  much  easier  to  do 
wrong  than  right.    If  I  were  to  fall  in  with  the 
ways  of  the  other  boys,  I  should  hi,ve  no  tvouble 
•getting  along  with  them,  and  it  seems  so  unjust 
for  them  to  laugh  at  and  shun  me  just  because  I 
can't  find  it  in  my  heart  to  tease  the  weaker 
children,  cheat  the  master,  and  say  words  1 
should  blush  for  you  or  the  girls  to  hear  me 

speak." 

"  I  hope  my  son  will  always  be  brave  oiough 
not  to  mind  what  his  school-fellows  say,  when  he 
he  knows  he  has  right  on  his  side." 

After  a  moment's  pause,  he  said : 


r 


I 
1 


■ 


::^ij::uT:iT'Tu7rT7rriniraii»i7nTXirr.?iiyrV^^ 


1  ways  off  wn  n 


teacher?" 
>in  to  mind  what 
ally  act  as  they 
r  the  rest  of  us." 
lie,  only  try  and 

:aniM>t  do  much 
luch  easier  to  do 
o  fall  ui  with  the 
d  hi.ve  no  tvouble 
t  seems  so  unjust 
ne  just  because  I 
tease  the  weaker 
ind  say  words  I 
^Is  to  hear  me 

be  brave  oiough 
lows  say,  when  he 
ide." 
said: 


DtMik, 


;< 


"  God  will  heir  we  if  I  ask  him,  for  he  know* 
how  much  ^  s»>metimes  need  it." 

His  mother  had  the  tea  prepared  now,  and 
Robbie  was  ready  to  do  justice  to  it;  the  bit  of 
luncheon  he  had  at  school  was  but  unsatisfactory 
food  for  the  growing,  active  boy,  while  the  school- 
house  was  too  far  away  in  the  deep  snows  and 
sudden  storms  of  winter  for  him  to  go  home  an. 
return  in  the  short  noon  hour. 

They  had  scarcely  finished  their  tea  when  P  'k 
Williams  came  hastily  into  the  house,  and  witi 
out  waiting  to  respond  to  their  cordial  gr     'ng* 

he  said : 

"  Mrs.  Meredith,  they  want  you  to  come  over 
directly.    Mother  is  very  sick."  . 

"What   is  the  matter?"    was  her   startled 

question. 
"  We  are  afraid  she  is  dying.    She  was  taken 

only  a  few  minutes  ago." 

In  a  moment  Mrs.  Meredith  was  ready,  and 
taking  Robbie  with  her  she  was  soon  across  the 
lots  at  farmer  Williams'  door. 


U— . 


72 


Robbif  Meredith. 


When  Mrs.  Meredith  entered  the  room  where 
her  kindly  neighbor  was  lying,  to  all  appearance 
struggling  with  a  cruel  death,  the  rennembrance 
of  her  own  life  sorrow  was  brought  fresh  to  her 
mind.  A  momentary  weakness  passed  over  her, 
but  she  soon  regained  her  usual  calmness,  and 
instantly  set  about  trying  to  see  if  something 
could  not  be  done  to  give  the  sufferer  relief. 

No  one  had  as  yet  been  dispatched  for  the  doc- 
tor. The  farm  hands  were  in  the  woods  and 
would  not  be  home  until  dark,  while  Dick  was 
unwilling  to  leave  his  mother's  bedside.  In  a 
few  minutes  Robbie  had  saddled  the  fleetest 
horse  in  the  stable,  and  was  galloping  along  the 
beaten  road  for  the  doctor. 

With  what  anxiety  they  all  waited  his  coming, 
although  fearing  that  she  had  passed  beyond  all 
human  skill  1  When  he  came,  their  fears  were 
found  to  be  correct ;  and  so  hopeless  did  he  deem 
the  sick  woman's  case  that  the  only  medicines 
he  gave  were  to  deaden  the  pain. 

When   Mrs.  Williams  found    that   in  a  very 


Dttah. 


n 


the  room  where 

0  all  appearance 
le  remembrance 
ght  fresh  to  her 
passed  over  her, 
al  calmness,  and 
lee  if  something 
Eferer  relief. 
:ched  for  the  doc- 

the  woods  and 
,  while  Dick  was 

1  bedside.  In  a 
lied  the  fleetest 
loping  along  the 

uted  his  coming, 
tassed  beyond  all 
,  their  fears  were 
eless  did  he  deem 
e  only  medicines 
I. 
that   in  a  very 


few  hours,  at  farthest,  she  should  be  face  to  face 
with  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth,  a  momentary 
alarm  increased  the  pallor  of  her  agonited  coun- 
Tehance ;  but  faith  in  the  Redeemer  whom  she 
had  loved  and  served  for  years  soon  took  away 
death's  sharpest  sting,  and  in  a  few  moments  she 
was  able  to  give  directions  for  the  immediate 
guidance  of  the  family,  as,  also,  advice  for  their 
more  distant  future. 

Before  midnight  her  spirit  escaped  froip  the 
suffering  body.  Her  dying  testimony,  together 
with  her  past  life,  left  her  friends  without  a  fear 
as  to  her  blissful  future. 

Robbie  had  not  seen  any  one  die  since  the  sad 
day  when  he  hau  watched  with  wondering,  fright- 
ened gaze  his  own  father  entering  the  cold  river. 
As  he  accompanied  his  mother  home  in  the  early 
dawn,  he  said : 

"After  all,  there  is  nothing  so  necessary  in 
this  world  as  preparation  for  death ;  only  to  tVink 
how  soon  she  was  taken  from  all  she  held  dear 
on  earth." 


■'  J 


mSniMIMIII 


74 


Robbit  Mtudith. 


% 


"Yes,  Robbie,  I  sec  vttry  day  more  clearly 
how  small  the  affairs  of  this  life  are  in  compari- 
son with  the  endless  hereafter.  I  thought,  when 
I  was  wiping  the  death  dews  from  her  face, 
would  I  ever  yield  to  ambitious  desires  for  my 
children  in  the  future  as  I  had  done  in  the  past?" 

"  How  strange,  mother,  that  we  should  think 
alike.  It  seemed  to  me  then  that  my  success  at 
school  was  of  such  little  value;  but  then  we 
ought  to  make  the  best  of  everything  while  in 
the  world ;  the  only  danger  I  suppose  is  getting 
to  think  more  of  the  intellect  than  of  the  soul" 

"Yes,  we  had  better  reach  heaven  ignorant 
than  to  have  all  knowledge  and  fail  of  getting 
there." 

They  were  at  their  own  door  now;  a  cold,  raw 
wind  was  blowing  over  the  frozen  meadows  from 
the  east,  while  threatening  storm-clouds  were 
slowly  rising  above  the  distant  hills ;  a  lurid  red 
marked  f  he  approach  of  another  day,  a  day  of 
sorrow  and  desolation  to  the  friends  who  had  so 
many  times  made  glad  the  home  of  the  widow 
and  her  son. 


-■■■ri>m'>mv^(m^^mi»^-^ 


.imiHs&i.^ 


timmmmf 


Dtath. 


7S 


more  clearly 
ire  in  compari< 
thought,  when 
cm  her  face, 
esires  for  my 
I  in  the  pant?" 

should  think 
my  success  at 
but  then  we 
thing  while  in 
ose  is  getting 
9f  the  soul." 
iven  ignorant 
Eiil  of  getting 

';  a  cold,  raw 
neadows  from 
i-clouds  were 
I ;  a  lurid  red 
day,  a  day  of 
Is  who  had  so 
of  the  widow 


No  wonder  that  on  this  cold  March  morning 
Iheir  hearts  seemed  in  unison  with  nature's 
dreariness,  and  that  a  vague  sense  of  the  fitness 
of  the  coming  day  to  the  scene  upon  which  it 
should  dawn,  in  the  house  across  the  lots,  should 
be  presented  to  Robbie's  susceptible  mind. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SUNDAY  SUITS. 

'N  April,  Robbie  was  obliged  to  leave  the 
school.  There  were  fences  to  be  re- 
paired, and  woo4  drawn  from  the  back  pasture 
and  cut  for  the  summer's  burning ;  while  he  had 
still  much  ploughing  to  do  that  had  been  left 
from  the  previous  autumn ;  the  farmers  had  been 
using  their  teams,  and  the  mother'.s  limp  purse 
could  not  at  that  time  bear  the  drain  upon  it  of  a 
hired  man  and  his  team.  Now  Robbie  felt  large 
enough  to  hold  the  plough,  while  Helen,  bright 
aiid  active  beyond  her  years,  could  easily  manage 
the  horse,  so  that  a  man's  wages  at  least  would 

be  saved. 

(76) 


«^^ 


Sunday  Suits. 


77 


ed  to  leave  the 
nces  to  be  re- 
le  back  pasture 
I  \  while  he  had 
t  had  been  left 
urmers  had  been 
der's  limp  purse 
rain  upon  it  of  a 
Bobbie  felt  large 
[e  Helen,  bright 
Id  easily  manage 
s  at  least  would 


But,  at  the  best,  prospects  were  dark  enough. 
The  pig  Nancy  had  brought  in  the  summer  was 
well-nigh  used  up;  only  what  the  prudent  mother 
had  reserved  for  the  toilsome  seed-time,  when 
meat  was  scarce  and  appetites  so  sharp. 

White-face  and  Blossom  had  nearJ'  ceased  to 
yield  their  daily  offering,  'vhile  the  flour,  and 
even  the  buck-wheat  were  getting  alarmingly  low. 
But  there  were  no  debts,  and  summer  was 
coming,  and,  after  the  seasons  they  had  passed 
through,  Robbie  did  not  yield  much  to  fears  for 

the  future. 

What  was  hardest  to  bear,  tl:sy  could  none  of 
them  go  to  church  or  Sunday-school.  The 
mother  had  turned  and  returned  the  garments 
worn  in  better  days  until  their  faded,  threadbare 
appearance  was  no  longer  presentable  f  jr  God's 

house. 
As  Robbie  put  on  his  out-grown  Sunday  best 

the  last  time,  he  said,  half  playfully: 

"  If  it  were  the  heart  they  wished  to  see,  they 
might  always  aee  mine  through  these  clothes, 


"!W^ 


,r^ 


■f.'i,-  <■  r,::i'sT^tr?BESS 


78 


Robbie  Meredith. 


*"  'I 


they  are  so  thin.  I  guess  I  won't  go  again  Witil 
I  can  get  better,  unless  you  will  let  me  wear  my 
every-day  suit,  it  does  not  look  quite  so  poverty 
stricken." 

His  mother  gave  her  consent,  but  soon  the 
patches  even  on  that  suit  became  so  multitudi< 
nous  that  Robbie  was  obliged  to  stay  at  home. 

"  I  do  not  care  so  much  for  myself,"  he  said, 
one  bright  May  morning,  when  the  bells  in  the 
village  were  calling  the  people  to  the  house  of 
prayer,  "  but  it  is  so  hard  to  see  you  confined  at 
home,  and  it  will  be  so  long  before  we  can  get 
clothes  for  us  alL" 

"  Never  mind,  Robbie,  we  can  read  God's 
word  at  home,  and  if  we  sit  on  the  door-step  and 
watch  the  fair  clouds  and  listen  to  the  birds  mak- 
ing their  glad  harmonies  all  about  us,  we  can  im- 
agine the  clouds  to  be  kind  messengers  from 
heaven,  freighted  with  blessings,  while  we  re> 
member  that  the  birds  are  one  rich  gift  left  us 
from  Adam's  transgression." 

"  Ah,  yes  1  but  I  should  so  like  to  have  the 
services  at  church  and  these  too." 


abunc 

blessi 

ready 

biitii 

"I 

"I 

wUll 

"\ 

"■5 

else, 

those 

way 

neve 

hast( 

R 

low! 

a  su 
ally 
had 


rain  utitil 
wear  my 
)  poverty 

soon  the 
Dultitudi< 

home. 

he  said. 
Is  in  the 
house  of 
nfined  at 
;  can  get 

id  God's 
-step  and 
irds  mak- 
e  can  im- 
;ers  from 
ie  we  re- 
it  left  us 


have  the 


Sunday  Smts. 


79 


"  Maybe,  my  son,  when  you  get  to  bawe  an 
abundant  home  of  your  own  you  will  prize  your 
blessings  all  the  more  highly,  and  be  the  more 
ready  to  thare  your  means  with  those  who  have 

but  little." 

"I  may  never  have  anything  to  share,  mother." 

"  If  you  live,  I  have  no  fears  but  that  your  life 
will  be  a  successful  one." 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  ? " 

"Your  energy  and  perseverance,  if  nothing 
else,  assure  me  of  it,  so  let  us  wait  patiently  for 
those  richer  days,  I  won't  say  happier.  Some- 
way of  late  I  have  realized  my  blessings  as  I 
never  did  before,  and  I  cannot  reasonably  wish  to 
hasten  to  any  happier  future." 

Robbie  looked  up  in  his  mother's  face  from  his 
low  seat  at  her  feet  on  the  door-step.  There  was 
a  surprised  gladness  in  his  own  face  that  effectu- 
ally chased  away  the  momentary  discontent  that 
had  somewhat  clouded  his  handsome  counte- 
nance. 

"You  are  satisfied,  then,  that  we  have  kept 

together?" 


r 


>.  mmmUSiSliMtiUX'iWiimTSi&m 


mli^ 


J 


8d 


Robbie  Meredith. 


"  Yes,  Robbie,  I  have  found  that  mother  does 
not  always  know  best     You  were  right  that 

time." 

"  That  was  the  only  time,  and  then  you  could 
not  know  how  determined  I  was  to  keep  our 
home  together.  We  do  not  mind  the  hardships 
now  that  they  are  past,  and  we  can  surely  afford 
to  endure  the  few  yet  to  come." 

Seed-time  came  and  went.  Midsummer  suns 
rose  sand  set,  ripening  golden  grain  and  fruits, 
and  still  Robbie  was  held  prisoner  on  the  Sun- 

days. 

His  thoughtful  pastor,  quickly  divining  the  rea- 
son for  his  absence,  supplied  him  with  reading 
matter  best  suited  for  the  bright,  clever  boy,  so 
that  his  Sundays  might  not  be  quite  lost    His 
own  narrow  income  alone  preventing  him  becom- 
ing the  anonymous  donor  of  a  complete  Sunday 
suit ;  but  a  widowed  mother,  with  children  still 
unprovided  for,  absorbed  all  his  surplus  funr^«, 
and  it  was  only  books  and  similar  help  he  could 
give  the    brave,  earnest    lad  who    claimed  so 
strongly  his  hearty  admiration. 


Sunday  Suits. 


8i 


mother  does 
J  right  that 

en  you  could 

to  keep  our 

he  hardships 

surely  afford 

summer  suns 
in  and  fruits, 
•  on  the  Sun- 

/ining  the  rea- 
with  reading 
clever  boy,  so 
lite  lost.  His 
ng  him  becom- 
mplete  Sunday 
li  children  still 
surplus  fun'^«, 
r  help  he  could 
10    claimed  so 


Another  midsummer  evening,  nearly  a  year 
from  that  well  remembered  eventide  when  he 
first  started  out  alone  to  look  for  bread,  found 
Robbie,  after  his  hard  day's  work  trudging  along, 
somewhat  wearily  under  a  heavy  basket  of  but- 
ter to  Phalcn's  store  at  the  Comer. 

The  cows  were  performing  unusually  well  in 
the  butter  line  this  summer;  so  much  so  that 
the  flour  barrel  had  been  replenished,  and  other 
household  necessaries  supplied. 

Robbie's  mother  had  given  him  permission  to 
invest  the  supply  of  butter  he  carried  in  the  bas- 
ket  this  night  according  to  his  own  fancy,  think- 
ing, of  course,  that  he  would  buy  himself  a  new 
suit,  and  finish  paying  for  it  with  future  churn 

ings. 

No  such  selfish  plan,  however,  was  cherished 
by  her  boy.  Arriving  at  the  store,  Robbie  found, 
to  his  satisfaction,  Phalen  in,  and  responding  to 
the  kind-hearted  fellow's  hearty  greeting  he 
straightway  delivered  his  butter-basket,  and  after 
the  weighing   had  been  attended  to,  inquired, 


.  I  III  rrpmninTinrii 


..«*' 


83 


RoMu  Mtredith. 


with  a  measure  of  self-distrust,  if  Phalcn  had  any 
pretty  dress  material  for  women's  wear. 

"  That  we  have,  my  boy,  something  that  will 
make  your  eyes  sparkle." 

"  I  want  something  sober,  it's  a  dress  for  my 

mother." 

Phalen  turned  from  the  piles  of  reds  and 
greens  he  was  about  reaching  down  to  a  heap 
of  quieter  tints. 

Robbie  espied  a  piece  of  silver  grey  it  oc- 
curred to  him  how  prettily  it  would  match  the 
soft  grey  hair  that  was  beginning  to  whiten  so 
rapidly  on  his  mother's  fair  brow.  "  May  I  look 
at  that  piece  ?  **  he  asked,  pointing  to  it. 

"  Ah,  sonny,  I  am  afraid  that's  too  dear  for 

you." 

Robbie  inquired  the  price.  The  next  question, 
something  he  had  quite  forgotten  before,  how 
much  it  would  take?  Phalen  made  a  ready 
guess;  he  knew  Mrs.  Meredith's  size.  Robbie 
reckoned  it  up,  ten  yards  at  one  dollar  a  yard ;  it 
certainly  was  a  great  sum  for  them,  but  a  happy 
thought  presented  itself. 


he 

cou 

I 

cou 

for 
< 

hot 
blil 
slig 
wit 
] 
chi 
bre 
bin 
sor 
cos 
so 


■«Kr 


en  had  any 

r. 

;  that  will 

ess  for  my 

:   reds  and 
I  to  aheap 

grey  it  oc- 
match  the 

0  whiten  so 
May  I  look 

it. 

;oo  dear  for 

ext  question, 
before,  how 
ide  a  ready 
ize.  Robbie 
ar  a  yard ;  it 
but  a  happy 


I 


Sunday  Suiis. 


«3 


"  My  mother  makes  her  dresses  very  plainly," 
he  said,  "  and  that  looks  so  wide  I  think  she 
could  do  with  much  less." 

Phalen  agreed  with  him,  suggesting  that  more 
could  be  got  if  necessary,  and  giving  it  to  him 
for  ninety  cents  a  yard. 

Soon  it  was  measured,  and  Robbie  on  his  way 
home  in  the  soft  summer  twilight,  whistling 
blithely,  but  there  was  mixed  with  his  pleasure  a 
slight  fear  lest  his  mother  should  be  dissatisfied 
with  his  purchase. 

He  had  never  seen  her  wear  anything  '^o 
church,  since  his  father's  death,  except  the  soku- 
bre  black  that  so  often  became  distasteful  to 
him  ;  but  he  shrewdly  thought  the  possible  rea- 
son might  be  the  lack  of  some  brighter  article  of 
costume  to  replace  the  black  that  had  done  duty 
so  long. 

When  he  reached  home  he  slowly  undid  the 
package,  handing  it  with  a  deprecating  air  to  the 
little  mother,  who  was  watching  curiously  her 
son's  proceedings. 


. 


■sf" 


.«^ 


g^  RodHe  Meredith. 

"What  is  it?"  she  said,  as  he  held  up  the 
shining  silvery  folds.  "  What  a  charming  piece 
of  goods  it  is ;  but  who  is  it  for  ? " 

"Who  should  it  be  for  but  my  mother?"  ' 
Robbie  replied  with  a  brightening  face.    "  Do 
you  think  it  is  pretty?" 

"  Quite  too  pretty  for  me,  my  son ;  bow  could 
you  be  so  extravagant  ? " 

"  It  is  not  extravagant  if  it  pleases  you.    Now 
you  at  least  can  go  to  church." 

"Ah!  Robbie,  I  had  far  rather  you  had  got 
clothes  first.    Your  generosity  pains  me." 

"  Our  turn  will  come  next    You  should  be 
clothed  first,  and  I  am  so  glad  you  like  it." 

"  How  could  I  help  liking  anything  you  would 
choose  for  me  ?"  the  mother  murmured,  softly. 

On  measuring,  it  was  found  there  would  be 
quite  enough,  not  only  to  make  the  dress,  but 
also  a  cape,  without  which  Mrs.  Meredith  could 
scarcely  go  to  church.  Her  summer  shawl  had 
done  duty  so  many  years  it  would  no  longer  be 
presentable  over  the  handsome  dress. 


it 

&' 
as 

all 

wl 

ec 

fa 
tc 
b 
P 


ti 

t; 


>r 


eld  up  the 
ming  piece 

mother  ? " 
lace.    "Do 

;  bow  could 


I  you. 


Now 


you  had  got 
1  me." 

u  should  be 
ke  it." 

ng  you  would 
ired,  softly. 
;re  would  be 
:he  dress,  but 
ercdith  could 
ler  shawl  had 
no  longer  be 


jisim 


Sunday  Suits. 


85 


«•  How  fortunate  that  it  was  so  wide ;  after  all 
it  will  be  a  very  cheap  dress." 

"  It  will,  indeed,  Robbie ;  the  pleasure  it  has 
given  me  already,  poor  as  we  are,  is  half  as  much 
as  it  is  worth,  and  then  I  expect  it  will  serve  me 
all  the  year  round  until  you  are  quite  a  man ; 
when,  I  suppose,  there  wUl  be  no  longer  need  of 
economizing  so  strictly." 

Mary  had  been  silently  stroking  the  smooth 
fabric  that  seemed  to  have  brought  such  pleasure 
to  the  humble  home,  with  a  wistful  look  in  her 
brown  eyes ;  suddenly  an  eager,  brightened  ex- 
pression took  the  place  of  the  wistful  look: 
"  Will  he  be  a  man  by  next  summer,  mamma?" 
Robbie  laughed  shyly,  while  Mrs.  Meredith 
turned  to  stroke  lovingly  the  upturned  face  of 

the  child. 
"  Not  quite  so  soon  as  that,  my  little  one;  but 

why  do  you  ask?" 

"  I  thought  I  might  get  a  new  frock,  then." 
The  little  face  lost  its  brightness  at  the  pros- 

pect  of  such  long  waiting. 


MiiwuiauiBn"-  vfi  liwugiaw 


w*^'"  '" 


i>iMMjiiniBli!|l|  ■Wjrart».w*J* 


86 


Robbie  Meredith, 


"  Never  mind,  pet,  you  shall  have  a  good  many 
dresses  before  I'm  a  man.  White-face  and  Blos- 
som will  find  them  for  you  pretty  soon." 

After  that,  many  a  shy  clover  head  was  held 
temptingly  through  the  pasture  bars  to  the  gentle 
cows,  who  soon  learned  to  follow  Mary,  pretty 
sure  of  getting  something. 

Her  not  wholly  unselfish  care  was  soon  re- 
warded. In  less  than  a  month  Robbie  had  made 
the  last  payment  on  his  mother's  dress,  and  again 
he  was  starting  out  one  rainy  afternoon  with  an 
umbrella  hoisted  over  his  basket. 

"  This  butter  must  go  to  pay  for  our  last  flour, 
and  then  the  next  will  be  for  you,"  his  mother 
said  to  him  when  leaving. 

He  did  not  make  reply ;  for  once  he  had  con- 
cluded to  disobey  his  mother. 

Reaching  the  store  he  found  Phalen  ready  to 
wait  on  him,  and  also  willing  to  let  the  flour  still 
remain  unpaid  for. 

"  Of  course  you  can  get  anything  you  wish," 
he  said,  heartily.  "Smith  himself  acknowledges 
you  are  one  of  our  most  prompt  customers." 


■■•N3if^^.|ifc,.ia5^jsffi5Sif,i^i^™ 


good  many 

e  and  Blos- 

1." 

d  was  held 

)  the  gentle 

:ary,  pretty 

IS  soon  re- 
e  had  made 
s,  and  again 
)on  with  an 

ir  last  flour, 
his  mother 

he  had  con- 

len  ready  to 
hie  flour  still 

you  wish," 
^knowledges 
omers.' 


^^ 


Sunday  Suits. 


«7 


The  keen-eyed  fellow  did  not  (ail  to  see  the 
flush  of  pleasure  his  encouraging  words  had 
caused. 

"  I  would  like  to  get  a  dress  and  some  fixings 
for  my  little  sister,  if  you  can  tell  me  what  is 
suitable." 

"Why  not  get  them  for  yourself?  I  have 
joined  the  Sunday-school  lately,  and  they  gave 
me  the  class  to  which  you  belong,  but  I  haven't 
seen  you  there.    I  guessed  the  reason  why." 

"  I  should  like  to  go,  but  the  poor  little  thing 
has  her  heart  set  on  going,  too,  and  I  can  wait 
more  patiently  than  she." 

"  Well,  you  are  a  good  boy,  Bob.  I  wish  there 
were  more  like  you." 

In  a  little  while  Robbie  and  Phalen  were  bus- 
ily engaged  selecting  a  dress  for  Mary.  Robbie's 
choice  was  divided  between  a  delicate  muslin  and 
brightly  colored-merino..  The  muslin  would  be 
quite  within  his  means,  but  would  also  very  soon 
be  too  thin  to  wear.  Phalen  urged  him  to  take 
the  merina 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

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Collection  de 
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Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Ar«- 


ii. 


88 


Robbie  Meredith. 


"  I  don't  think  we  could  afford  it."     ^     ; 

"  Yes,  but  then  see  how  wide  it  is,"  was  the  en- 
couraging reply. 

That  was  a  recommendation,  Robbie  thought, 
as  he  recollected  his  mother's  dress  which  she  had 
made  so  much  out  of  on  account  of  its  width. 
This  fortunate  circumstance  decided  him  in  favor 
of  the  merino. 

The  next  thing  to  get  was  a  hat,  of  the  suitable 
selection  of  which  Robbie  felt  somewhat  fearful ; 
but  with  Phalen's  really  good  taste  to  assist  in 
choosing,  a  pretty  little  hat  was  soon  lying  beside 
the  dress,  ready  to  take  home  to  the  delighted 
child.  The  slippers  were  easily  selected,  when 
Robbie's  purchases  were  complete.  As  he  took 
up  his  basket  to  leave  the  store,  Fhalen  said : 

"  You  need  not  pay  for  that  dress.  I  will 
make  the  little  maid  a  present  of  it." 

Robbie's  face  expressed  more  gratekil  thanks 
than  his  lips  were  able  to  frame. 

"  If  I  could  only  do  something  for  you,"  he 
said ;  "  it  seems  as  if  I  must  always  be  receiving 
from  others  and  not  doing  anything  in  return." 


A 

"A 

SI 

i 


^ 


was  the  en- 

ie  thought, 
ich  she  had 
[  its  width, 
litn  in  favor 

the  suitable 
hat  fearful ; 
:o  assist  in 
ying  beside 
e  delighted 
ected,  when 
As  he  took 
:n  said : 
ess.     I  will 

ekil  thanks 

[or  you,"  he 
be  receiving 
n  return." 


I 


ip 


Sunday  Suits.  S^ 

"  Never  mind,  you  may  help  us  all  some  day. 
'  It's  a  long  lane  has  no  turn.'  " 

When  Robbie  reached  home  the  tea  was  ready, 
and  the  mother  had,  from  her  carefully  hoarded 
store,  added  a  few  luxuries,  for  Nancy  was  there. 
She  had  been  visiting  some  friends  at  a  distance, 
and  taking  care  of  an  aged  relative  who  had  left 
her,  most  unexpectedly,  a  snug  little  sum  of 
money.  Her  kindness  had  so  endeared  her  to 
others  that  there  were  none  to  envy  her  her  little 
store  of  wealth. 

Robbie  set  down  his  basket.  In  his  delight  at 
seeing  Nancy  he  forgot  for  awhile  its  contents, 
until  his  mother,  looking  into  it,  said : 
"  May  we  look  at  your  new  clothes,  Robbie  ? " 
She  was  so  busy  exploring  the  basket,  Rob- 
bie's flushed  face  was  unnoticed.  True  a  friend 
as  Nancy  was,  he  had  rather  she  should  not  know 
he  bought  the  girl's  hats  and  diesses;  it  was  bad 
enough  for  Phalen  to  know  he  did  it. 

"  What  have  you  got  here  ? "  was  his  mother's 
surprised  question,  as  she  unrolled  first  the  hat 
with  its  gay  ribbons  and  then  the  dress. 


90 


Robbie  Meredith. 


"  I  got  Mary's  Sunday  clothes." 

"  Oh,  let  me  see,"  the  delighted  child  eagerly 
cried.     Her  delight  was  unbounded. 

Robbie  glanced  at  his  mother;  he  could  not 
fail  to  see  a  proud,  loving  look  in  her  face,  al- 
though  when  she  caught  his  eye  she  said  : 

"  I  am.  sorry,  Robbie,  that  you  have  spent  your 
money  so  foolishly.  Mary  could  have  done  with- 
out  better  than  you." 

"  Never  mind,  mother,  our  turn  will  come  next, 
won't  it,  Helen  ?  Beside,  you  must  know  that 
dress  is  a  present  from  Phalen  to  our  baby." 

They  did  not  say  much  more,  but  when  Rob- 
bie went  out  after  tea:,  and  his  mother  told  Nancy 
how  long  he  had  been  kept  at  home  for  want  of 
clothes,  and  yet  how  unwilling  he  was  to  be  clad 
first,  the  latter,  nowise  injured  by  her  recent  ac- 
cession of  money,  said : 

"  If  you  are  willing,  Mrs.  Meredith,  I  will  buy 
Robbie  a  new  suit." 

"  I  do  not  think  he  would  be  willing,"  was  the 
timid  reply;  "he  thinks  we  have  been  too  great 


a 

b< 

bi 

m 
es 

O! 

nt 

gJ 
in 

lil 

w 
cl 

in 

g< 
tl 


iiii  ■> '■■»-.iira"'(i>rri  ^i>»^"i^'t<iMhVaw^rf^*i£*?<^j»'i'Hto*«*ii 


ild  eagerly 

e  could  not 
er  face,  al< 
aid : 

spent  your 
done  with- 

come  next, 
know  that 
jaby." 
when  Rob- 
old  Nancy 
or  want  of 
to  be  clad 
recent  ac- 

I  will  buy 

:,"  was  the 
t  too  great 


Sunday  Suits. 


9» 


a  tax  already  on  our  friends,  but  maybe  he  would 
be  glad  to  borrow  the  money  and  then  pay  you 
back  when  we  are  a'  le." 

Nancy  readily  agreed  to  this,  and  so  the  next 
morning  found  her  early  at  Fhalen's  counter, 
eager  about  the  purcha^^te.  With  his  usual  gener- 
osity he  gave  her  the  cloth  at  cost,  and  it  was 
not  long  until  she  and  Mrs.  Meredith  had  the 
garments  cut,  and  were  busy  with  their  needles 
in  an  up-stairs  room  where  Robbie  would  not  be 
likely  to  surprise  them  unexpectedly. 

It  was  a  happy  Eioment  for  Mrs.  Meredith 
when  the  Sunday  morning  came  to  place  the 
clothes  on  a  chair  in  Robbie's  room,  where  his 
eyes  would  be  sure  to  rest  on  them  when  he  come 
in.  They  were  a  happy  pair,  as  they  walked  to- 
gether, accompanied  by  little  Mary,  to  church 
that  morning. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


CONVERSION. 


jOBBIE  was  once  more  in  the  Sunday- 
school,  and  could  listen  again  to  the 
words  of  instruction  and  warning  uttered  from 
the  sacred  desk. 

The  evening  of  thht  first  Sabbath  after  he  had 
again  taken  his  accustomed  seat  in  the  house  of 
prayer,  the  minister  took  for  his  text  that 
strangely  symbolic  text,  from  the  sayings  of  the 
wise  man,  "  Take  us  the  foxes,  the  little  foxes, 
that  spoil  the  vines :  for  our  vines  have  tender 
grapes." 

Robbie  was  first  amused,  and  next  fascinated 
by  the  quaintness  of  the  good  man's  text,  and 

(02) 


.. 


th 
bi 

as 
ju 
ai 

P' 
ni 
w 
T 
tl 
b 
h 

Si 

tl 

P 

t! 

h 

0 

f 

a 


ttir*'i^^m^^l^Lt•*|^^^^•M•lf^^^ 


*iil9mmmavimt  ■Jlli'lTlfiL  <  QJU,  ffr^rr- 


e  Sunday- 
lin  to  the 
tered  from 

fter  he  had 
le  house  of 
text  that 
ngs  of  the 
ittle  foxes, 
ave  tender 

fascinated 
s  text,  aud 


Conversion. 


93 


the  remarks  he  uttered  as  he  took  up  the  various 
branches  of  his  discourse. 

With  a  satisfied  self-complacency  he  listened, 
as  one  by  one  the  habits  and  actions  likely  to  in- 
jure the  work  of  grace  in  the  Christian  character 
and  life  were  dwelt  upon;  until,  at  last,  the 
preacher  in  a  masterly  manner  pressed  home 
more  and  yet  more  closely  the  truths  which  he 
was  uttering  upon  the  consciences  of  his  hearers. 
The  more  flagrant  sins  were  first  arraigned,  and 
then  he  narrowed  down  more  closely,  until  Rob- 
bie felt  his  cheeks  crimson.  Were  not  his  own 
heart's  coveted  idols  passing  under  scrutiny  now  ? 

Pride,  self-esteem,  auibiHon,  impatience,  oh ! 
so  many  sias  were  set  in  array  before  him,  as  his- 
thoughts  quickly  reviewed  the  months  that  had 
passed  since  he  had  felt  his  sins  forgiven.  Even 
that  very  evening  he  liad  entered  the  church, 
holding  up  his  head  as  if  he  were  better  than  the 
other  boys  around  him  ,'  mentally  making  the  dif- 
ference between  his  own  active  services  for  others, 
and  their  careless,  fun-loving  habits.    Now  he 


Robbie  Meredith. 


%, 


mm 


94 

felt  ready,  like  the  Publican,  to  cry,  "  God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner,"  as  the  curtain  was  be- 
ing lifted  from  his  heart,  and  sins  that  had  been 
hiding  there  were  exposed  to  view. 

Robbie  went  home  through  the  calm  summer 
night,  feeling  sadder  and  more  condemned  than 
he  had  done  before  for  months.  His  thoughts 
had  been  so  engrossed  in  the  every-day  duties  of 
life  but  little  time  had  been  given  to  the  higher 
interests  of  his  spiritual  welfare. 

He  realized  now  that  the  strangely  fascinating 
story  of  Pilgrim,  in  Bunyan's  allegory,  Was  not 
over-drawn.  He  had  only  gone  but  a  little  dis- 
tance on  that  w£gr  that  Pilgrim  followed  so  stead- 
fastly until  the  termination,  which  lay  beyond 
Beulah  over  the  river,  in  the  Celestial  City. 

Robbie  felt  that  he  too  had  been  loitering  in 
the  Valley  of  Carnal  Security ;  had  been  listen- 
ing  to  the  words  of  Giant  Pride  and  other  ene- 
mies of  the  soul;  but  he  determined,  as  he 
leaned  over  the  fence  looking  up  at  the  bright 
stars  shining  far  off  in  the  quiet  heavens,  that  he 
would  again  begin. 

laiikiteiM'A^H '*tii  iffi«Si«inil>it"'iiiiliiiii»liiili&l iiiiili' 


of 
an 
m: 
ne 
frc 

tir 
inj 
vi( 
he 
hii 
do 
lei 
to 

m 

Wi 

m 
he 
ut 
ar 


Conversion, 


',  "God  be 
ain  was  be- 
t  had  been 

m  summer 
mned  than 
I  thoughts 
y  duties  of 
the  higher 

fascinating 
y.  Was  not 
a  little  dis- 
d  so  stead- 
ay  beyond 
City. 

oitering  in 
een  listen* 
other  ene- 
led,  as  he 
the  bright 
ns,  that  he 


"  I  will  at  least  not  let  Giant  Despair  get  hold 
of  me,"  he  murmured ;  "  my  case  is  hard  enough, 
and  I  have  been  forgetful  and  wicked  enough  to 
make  me  give  up  all  hope,  but  I  shall  look  ear- 
nestly to  Christ  for  help  and  he  will  save  me 
from  myself." 

He  followed  his  mother  into  the  house  after  a 
time.  Nancy  was  there.  In  his  silent  commun- 
ing, under  the  watching  stars,  Robbie  had  new 
views  of  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  life ; 
he  saw  how  many  things  he  had  left  undone  for 
his  blessed  Master ;  how  little  he  was  trying  to 
do  to  show  his  gratitude  to  the  Saviour,  who  had 
left  the  abode  of  his  own  and  his  father's  glory 
to  die  for  him. 

"  I  have  not  acknowledged  him  to  any  one  but 
my  mother,  except  in  a  half-ashamed,  frightened 
way,  as  if  it  were  a  disgrace  to  have  God's  love  in 
my  soul,"  he  said,  half  aloud,  before  entering  the 
house ;  and  then  in  the  Still  night  air  vows  were 
uttered  and  prayers  breathed  forth,  unheard  by 
any  human  ear,  but  the  result  of  which  brought 


96 


Robbie  Meredith. 


before  many  weeks  a  joy  nearest  that  of  the  an- 
gels to  very  many  hearts. 

That  evening,  before  they  retired,  Robbie  said 
to  his  mother : 

"  If  you  are  willing,  mother,  I  think  wc  should 
have  prayers  together  before  we  sleep." 

She  gave  him  a  surprised  look,  but  said,  "  I 
am  willing,  Robbie." 

With  a  quivering  heart,  and  a  feeling  of  humil- 
iation almost  terrible  in  its  strength,  Robbie 
opened  the  Bible.     He  turned  to  that  sad  story 
of  our  Saviour's  agony  in  the  garden,  and,  as  he 
read,  strength  seemed  given  to  him.     For  a  mo- 
ment he  forgot  his  mother,  and  Nancy,  and  his 
wondering  sisters.     Christ  did  all  this  for  him, 
wrestled,  agonized,  bled ;  should  he  refuse  so  light 
a  cross  in  view  of  the  heavier  one  his  Master 
struggled   under  so  many  hours  alone?     The 
prayer  he  uttered  was  short  but  fervent.    When 
they  arose  from   their  knees,  Nancy  was  not 
ashamed  to  be  found  in  tears. 

When  Robbie  retired  that  night  he  wondered 


t  s>Si!*^5»*«***=«*'«»«'»"*t*'  ■■ 


Conversion. 


97 


It  of  the  an« 
Robbie  said 

tk  we  should 

P- 

but  said,  "  I 

ing  of  humil- 
igth,  Robbie 
lat  sad  story 
in,  and,  as  he 
I.  For  a  mo- 
incy,  and  his 
this  for  hini, 
efuse  so  light 
e  his  Master 
alone  ?  The 
vent.  When 
ncy  was  not 

he  wondered 


should  he  always  be  so  happy  in  the  love  of 
Christ ;  when  he  went  about  the  duties  of  the 
day,  week  after  week,  and  year  after  year,  until 
life  was  done,  should  he  always  carry  this  deep, 
inexpressible  comfort  with  him  ? 

The  following  evening  he  found  time  to  visit 
his  minister.  He  thought  there  might  be  found 
some  work  he  could  do  for  Christ  and  his  fellow 
creatures ;  and,  beside,  he  wished  to  unite  with 
the  church.  He  longed  to  share  with  Christians 
the  privilege  of  commemorating  Christ's  death  in 
the  mystical  emblems  of  bread  and  wine.  When 
he  spoke  to  his  minister  Robbie  said  modestly : 

"  I  thought,  sir,  that  it  was  my  duty  to  tell  you 
how  much  your  sermon  benefitted  me.  I  never 
was  so  happy  in  my  life  as  I  have  been  to^y." 

"You  could  not  tell  me  any  better  news  my, 
dear  boy."  was  the  glad  reply.  "  It  was  with  a 
sad,  discouraged  heart  that  I  prepared  that  ser- 
mon ;  indeed,  I  have  seen  so  little  fruits  of  my 
ministry  since  I  came  here,  I  have  feared  that  I 
was  not  in  the  work  God  wished  to  have  me  in," 


wmm 


Robbie  Mtredith. 


**  It  is  not  much,  I  suppose,  to  help  a  poor  igw 
norant  boy  like  me,  or  that  might  encourage 
you,"  Robbie  said,  gently. 

"  When  our  blessed  Master  came  on  earth,  his 
direct  mission  seems  to  have  been  mostly  to  the 
poor,  and  let  us  hope,  Robbie,  that  the  good  work 
begun  in  your  heart  may  spread  to  scores  be- 
side." 

Robbie's  wish  to  join  the  church  was  heartily 
approved  of,  and  the  next  Sunday  appointed, 
when  he  should  receive  public  recognition  of 
membership. 

"  You  will  meet  with  us  in  our  prayer-meeting 
on  Wednesday  evening,  and  tell  there  what  joy 
you  have  recently  experienced,"  were  his  mmis- 
ter's  parting  words. 

Robbie  found  his  way  to  the  meeting  on  the 
Wednesday  evening,  accompanied  by  his  mother 
and  sisters,  although  the  church  was  more  than 
a  mile  away,  and  Helen  and  Mary  had  no  other 
covering  for  their  feet  but  what  nature  provided. 
With  generous  self-sacrifice,  Mary  declared  her 


.  ;'fatt*p.'»e.'^^»J^' " 


a  poor  ig- 
encourage 

I  earth,  his 
stly  to  the 
good  work 
scores  be- 
as  heartily 
appointed, 
gaition  of 

er-meeting 

e  what  joy 

his  minis- 

ing  on  the 
his  mother 
more  than 
i  no  other 
e  provided, 
xlared  her 


Cffftversum. 

determination  to  go  barefoot  rather  than  have 
Helen  appear  so  alone. 

Robbie  felt  grieved  to  think  of  it,  but  he  be- 
lieved there  was  a  better  time  coming,  when  he 
and  the  dear  ones  with  him  could  sit  in  God's 
house  without  being  pained  with  a  sense  of  their 
outward  unfitness  for  that  sacred  place. 

However  the  small  congregation  may  have  e». 
teemed  the  humble  family,  as  the  mother  and  her 
two  barefoot  daughters  softly  went  up  the  uncar- 
peted  aisle,  to  farmer  Williams'  pew  where  they 
were  always  welcome  to  a  seat,  at  least  before 
the  service  was  ended  they  could  but  rejoice  with 
her  when  they  heard  her  soft,  tremulous  voice 
telling  what  great  peace  had  recently  come  to 
abide  in  her  heart,  and  still  more  might  they 
wonder  at  her  joy  when  Robbie,  with  an  elo- 
quence thrilling  from  its  very  simplicity  and  in- 
tensity of  feeling,  told  them  what  God  had  done 
for  him. 

It  was  not  a  usual  thing,  in  that  church,  to 
hear  any  one  speak  of  tho  love  of  Jesus,  unless 


fT=" 


k^ 


100 


Robbie  Meredith. 


the  minister  or  some  of  the  aged  members ;  but 
■when  a  timid  woman  and  her  boy  told,  with  such 
deep  pathos,  their  simple  story,  it  was  not  strange 
if  there  was  in  the  little  assembly  scarce  an  un- 
moved spectator. 

After  Robbie  sat  down,  one  and  another  spoke 
quietly,  but  with  an  earnestness  that  betokened 
a  belief  in  the  awful  realities  of  another  state  of 
existence.  The  cold  apathy  that  had  been  the 
habitual  state  of  that  prayer-meeting  was  quite 
•  broken  up,  and  so  unconscious  was  Mr.  Carthen, 
the  minister,  of  the  flight  of  time,  and  so  willing 
were  the  people  to  remain  where  the  power  from 
on  high  was  so  manifested,  that  one  after  another 
of  the  villagers  dropped  in  to  ascertain  the  cause 
of  the  unusually  long  meeting. 
When  at  last  they  did  close,  Mr.  Carthen  asked 

if  it  would  not  be  wise  to  have  another  meeting 

the  next  evening. 
"We  have  been,"  he  said,  " careless  so  long, 

surely  we  may  now  afford  to  be  a  little  while  in 

earnest,  else  God  nia\  leave  us  entirely.    We 


smbers;  but 
d,  with  such 
I  not  strange 
carce  an  un- 

nother  spoke 
Lt  betokened 
tther  state  of 
ad  been  the 
ng  was  quite 
Mr.  Carthen, 
nd  so  willing 
5  power  from 
after  another 
ain  the  cause 

)arthen  asked 
ther  meeting 

;less  so  long, 
little  while  in 
entirely.    We 


I 


Conversion. 


tot 


have  felt  his  presence  here  wondrously  to-night. 
Let  us  believe  it  is  a  manifest  token  that  he  is 
about  to  pour  out  his  Spirit  in  our  midst.  All 
willing  to  unite  in  working  and  praying  for  a  re- 
vival will  please  manifest  their  willingness  to  co- 
operate by  rising." 

One  after  another  the  congregation  responded, 
until  scarcely  a  person  remained  sitting. 

In  a  tremulous  voice  the  benediction  was  pro- 
nounced, and  the  people,  some  in  groups  and 
others  alone,  went  to  their  homes.  Some  were 
astonished,  others  rejoicing. 

"  It  is  the  dawning,  I  believe,  of  a  day  I  have 
long  prayed  for,"  one  saintly  old  mother  in  Israel 
exclaimed,  as  she  said  good-by  to  her  pastor  at 
the  parsonage  gate. 

Robbie  went  about  his  work  next  day  happy 
enough,  and  strong  enough  in  his  great  new  joy 
to  resist  Satan's  wily  snares.  As  he  worked  in 
the  harvest  field  that  day,  the  thought  was  sug- 
gested to  him  that  there  was  no  necessity  for 
his  beginning  so  young  in  life  to  work  for  Jesus; 


'.>S«' 


ITT^ 


■JtMMMWyi. 


zr..-L>±..^. 


102 


/?oW»V  Meredith. 


^ 


but  he  repelled  the  temptation  by  reminding 
himself  how  very  short,  even  at  the  longest,  our 
work-time  is  on  earth. 

His  eyes  rested  on  the  golden  grain  he  was 
rapidly  cutting  down  with  his  sickle,  and  he  was 
reminded  of  the  time  soon  to  be  here,  when 
death,  with  his  "  sickle  keen,"  should  cut  him 
down  and  usher  his  spirit  into  the  presence  of 
the  Judge  of  quick  and  dead. 

"  I  won't  regret  then  that  I  began  when  I  was 
only  sixteen  to  work  for  Jesus,"  he  said  aloud  as 
if  answering  some  invisible  companion. 

When  he  entered  the  crowded  church  that 
evening  it  did  not  occur  to  him  that  it  would  be 
his  duty  to  take  any  public  part  in  the  service ; 
but,  during  the  evening,  his  afternoon's  medita- 
tion in  the  harvest  field  came  into  his  mind,  as 
he  was  half  unconsciously  watching  Dick  Will- 
iams' strangely  moved  countenance.  Eager  to 
encourage  him,  before  he  scarcely  knew  what  he 
was  doing,  he  was  on  his  feet,  thrilling  with  his 
simple,  homely  message,  not  only  the  heart  of 


II  < 


..  ._.*i!r«'';**o3,i'>^;V,*.-**.ii;a'f. >*."'■■ 


y  reminding 
longest,  our 

^ain  he  was 
I,  and  he  was 
here,  when 
luld  cut  him 
i  presence  of 

\  when  I  was 
said  aloud  as 
on. 

church  that 
t  it  would  be 

the  service ; 
oon's  niedita- 

his  mind,  as 
ig  Dick  WiU- 
e.  Eager  to 
knew  what  he 
illing  with  his 

the  heart  of 


mm 


Conversion. 


103 


good-natured,  light-hearted  Dick,  but  also  his 
friend  Phalen  who  had  come  as  many  others  had, 
to  see  the  strange  doings. 

His  simile  of  the  ripening  grain-field  was  one. 
they  could  all  understand ;  and,  as  he  spoke,  old 
farmer  Williams,  who  had  never  quite  sympa- 
thized with  his  wife  in  her  love  for  religion,  inly 
trembled  as  he  reflected  upon  how  nearly  ripe  his 
years  must  be,  and  how  little  precious  seed  he 
had  borne  for  Christ  or  the  world. 

Robbie,  a  mere  child  compared  with  himself, 
was  working  for  his  Master,  while  he,  soon  to  be 
called  from  all  his  planning  and  treasures,  was 
only  thinking  of  that  certain  future  with  dread. 

When  Robbie  had  ceased  speaking  there  was 
for  several  moments  a  solemn  pause;  a  wagon 
going  by  was  distinctly  heard  far  down  the  road, 
while  an  occasional  mufHed  shuffling  of  feet 
seemed  to  distutb  the  house. 

A  few  moments  after,  Mr.  Carthen,  as  well  as 
the  old  man's  neighbors,  were  startled  as  farmer 
Williams  arose  to  his  feet.    Dick  and  his  sisters, 


iiiSF^ 


I 


i-   ! 


Robbie  Meredith. 


104 


who  were  sitting  in  the  large  square  pew  with 
their  father,  exchanged  half-frightened  glances. 
The  congregation  turned  their  heads  to  listen. 
All  were  surprised.  Old  comrades  of  the  farmer 
were  there,  those  who  had  played  with  him 
in  boyhood,  consulted  together  the  serious  busi- 
ness of  life,  grown  old  together,  and  who,  like 
him,  had  never  thought  much  of  those  things 
that  made  for  their  eternal  peace.  These  list- 
ened as  perhaps  few  others  did.  What  he  might 
say  or  do  would  probably  have  more  influence 
than  even  their  minister's  words  could  have. 

"  My  friends,"  he  said,  while  every  nerve  of  his 
labor-hardened  body  seemed  quivering  with  emo- 
tion, "I  feel  to-night,  as  I  never  felt  before,  the 
necessity  of  being  prepared  for  death.  I  have 
seen  a  father  and  mother  calmly  meeting  death. 
I  have  closed  the  eyes  of  my  children  for  the 
last  time,  and  not  very  long  ago  I  saw  the  com- 
panion of  my  youth  and  riper  years  passing 
through  the  gates  of  death.  Each  of  these  warn- 
ings from  Providence  has  had  a  certain  influence 


— ,™.'av-.i^S'i:-l7im-VflrM;'-.'>wi&''^5!^:'''S' 


Conversion. 


105 


jare  pew  with 
ened  glances. 
:ads  to  listen. 
\  of  the  farmer 
'ed   with  him 
:  serious  busi- 
and  who,  like 
those  things 
!.     These  list- 
Vhat  he  might 
lore  influence 
>uld  have, 
ry  nerve  of  his 
ring  with  emo- 
elt  before,  the 
leath.    I  have 
meeting  death, 
kildren  for  the 
[  saw  the  com- 
years  passing 
of  these  warn- 
:rtain  influence 


'i 


over  my  mind,  but  not  one  of  them  has  made  me 
realize  as  I  do  this  night  that  some  day,  and  that 
before  very  long,  I  must  go  to  meet  my  Judge, 
that  I  must  live  either  in  heaven  or  hell  forever 
and  ever.  I  believe  if  I  should  die  this  present 
hour,  where  God  is  I  could  not  come." 

He  sat  down.  Not  so  much  the  words  as  the 
manner  in  which  they  were  uttered  brought  a 
solemnity  awful  as  death  itself  over  the  congre- 
gation. 

The  meeting  went  on.  Other  voices  never 
before  heard  speaking  for  Jesus  were  asking  how 
they  might  find  him. 

At  its  close  Mr.  Carthen  announced  a  simi- 
lar service  on  the  following  evening,  and  for  the 

Sunday  also. 
"  We  will  all  be  workers  together,"  he  said, "  in 
^.,this  glorious  harvest  work,  and  we  must  look  and 
pray  that  the  coming  Sabbath  may  be  the  best 
day  we  have  ever  known." 

A  mighty  power  seemed  resting  on  the  people, 
and  after  the  benediction  had  been  pronounced, 
they  still  seemed  unwilling  to  leave  the  house. 


','1 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


%J,^, 


CHRISTIAN    WORK. 

HAT  Sabbath,  and  many  succeeding  ones, 
were  days  long  to  be  remembered  in  the 
little  village,  as  well  as  in  the  surrounding  ham- 
lets. Robbie  was  received  into  the  church,  to- 
gether with  farmer  Williams,  who  was  made 
happy  in  the  pardoning  love  of  God  that  very 
night,  and  several  others  also  on  the  succeeding 
Sunday,  while  for  many  ensuing  Sabbaths  the 
minister  and  his  people  were  gladdened  by  see- 
ing scores  of  people  enrolling  themselves  with 
the  church. 

Phalen  became  one  of  the  most  earnest  work- 
ers in  the  good  cause.    Soon  experiencing  his 

(10(1) 


.. 


icceeding  ones, 
:mbered  in  the 
rounding  ham- 
the  church,  to- 
ho  was  made 
Giod  that  very 
the  succeeding 
Sabbaths  the 
ddened  by  see- 
emselves  with 

;  earnest  work- 
periencing  his 


Christian  Work. 


107 


utter  unfitness  to  teach  others,  he  became  a  hum- 
ble disciple  in  Christ's  school ;  and  when  he  had 
found  the  pearl  of  great  price,  he  did  not  rest 
content  with  possessing  that  blessing  himself, 
but,  with  all  the  fervor  of  his  earnest  nature, 
urged  others  to  come  and  gain  the  eternal  riches 
so  freely  offered  to  all. 

Robbie  still  worked  on  with  increasing  faith 
and  zeal;  the  meetings  greatly  strengthened  his 
purposes.    He  had  not,  however,  so  far  overcome 
sin  and  an  evil  heart  that  temptations  and  even 
failures  of  duty  were  unknown  to  him,  but  he 
now  more  than  ever  realized  the  need  of  hourly 
cleansing  in  the  fountain  opened  to  take  away  his 
sin.     Every  mght  he  was  grieved  to  look  back 
over  a  day  in  which  some  work  for  Jesus  had 
been   left  undone;    some  easily  besetting    sin 
yielded  to ;  but,  helpless  as  he  felt  himself  to  be, 
there  was  joy,  supreme  and  abiding,  in  the  con- 
sciousness that  in  Christ  he  could  find  strength 
and  grace  necessary  to  help  him  even  in  this 
world  to  overcome ;  and  that,  not  when  he  was 


jaBttOmm 


108 


/lo6iir  Meredith. 


old  and  the  world  had  lost  its  charm,  and  its  al. 
lurements  were   not  so  strangely  sweet.    But 
now.  ,n  the  early  dawnings  of  manhood,  as  well 
as  .n  ,ts  full  strength,  he  looked  to  have  his  Lord 
takmg  stronger  possession  of  his  affections,  of 
h>s  entire  being,  so  that  one  day  he  trusted  to  be 
entirely  what  his  Heavenly  Father  would  have 
him  be. 

Was  it  an  expectatioi.  beyond  what  the  Bible 
warrants  a  Christian  attempting?  A  state  too 
blessed  for  an  heir  of  gloiy  while  yet  on  earth  at- 
tempting to  realize  ? 

After  it  was  decided  the  services  had  been  held 
sufficiently  long  they  gradually  ceased,  until  the 
usual  Wednesday  prayer-meeting  was  the  one 
public  service  of  the  week. 

Robbie  felt  grieved  as  he  thought  of  the  many 
who  were  yet  unconverted,  and  would  willingly 

have  walked  the  mile  and  more  every  evening 
after  his  day's  work  was  done  if  they  had  deemed 
It  advisable  to  continu'e. 
At  last  he  gained  courage  and  went  to  his  min- 


K^l^i 


harm,  and  its  al< 
;ly  sweet.  But 
Janhood,  as  well 
o  have  his  Lord 
s  affections,  of 
le  trusted  to  be 
er  would  have 

Bvhat  the  Bible 
?  A  state  too 
et  on  earth  at- 

had  been  held 
wed,  until  the 
was  the  one 

t  of  the  many 
>uld  willingly 
very  evening 
^  had  deemed 

>t  to  his  rain- 


Christian   Work. 


109 


ister  with  a  plan  that  had  been  troubling  him  for 
days.  If  Mr.  Carthen  were  willing  he  would  get 
those  of  the  lads  near  his  own  age  to  hold  a 
prayer-meeting  together  once  a  week. 

Of  course  Mr.  Carthen  gladly  gave  his  consent, 
and  then  Robbie's  next  endeavor  was  to  get  boys 
willing  to  join  him  in  the  undertaking.  He 
spoke  to  Dick  Williams  first,  who  consented  to 
attend  the  meeting.  He  would  promise  nothing 
further.  Notwithstanding  all  his  endeavors, 
Robbie  could  get  no  more  than  five  willing  to 
have  their  names  enrolled  among  the  little  band, 
and  these  were  only  obtained  by  the  most  urgent 
entreaties. 

He  chose  Saturday  evening  for  their  prayer- 
meeting,  and  as  he  finished  up  his  weeks  labors 
on  that  day,  it  was  with  fear  and  trembling  he 
looked  forward  to  the  hour  so  rapidly  ap-  — 'fil- 
ing. 

A  little  before  the  appointed  time  Robbie  was 
at  the  door,  key  in  hand,  but  up  and  down  the 
long  stretch  of  road  that  lay  like  a  brown  be't 


4.< 


Tit 


.1 

II' 


no 


Robbie  Mertdith. 


between  the  meadows  on  either  side,  no  persoh 
was  visible  in  the  bright  moonlight. 

With  a  heavy  heart  he  turned  the  key  and  en- 
tered  the  softly  illumined  house.  How  silent 
everything  seemed ;  oppressively  so,  after  the  ac- 
customed buzz  of  children's  voices.  Only  the 
clock  told  of  the  departing  moments  in  its  sol- 
cmn,  measured  tone. 

Robbie  hastened  to  light  the  lamp  with  which 
he  had  provided  himself,  hoping  some  of  the  boys 
might  see  it  and  come. 

It  seemed  a  long  lime  waiting,  as  he  sat  there 
in  the  shadowy  room.  He  was  beginning  to 
yield  to  a  feeling  of  discouragement,  when  htt 
heard  the  door  softly  open.  As  he  turned  to 
look,  Dick  Williams  Vas  just  closing  the  door 
behind  him.  He  was  alone.  Robbie  then  gave 
up  all  hope  of  any  one  else  coming.  Where 
were  all  the  lads,  he  wondered,  who  had  seemed 
so  deeply  impressed  during  the  meetings. 

When   Dick    saw    only   Robbie    present,  he 
looked  relieved.    His  promise  had  been  kept  at 


side,  no  persoh 
bt. 

the  key  and  en< 
e.  How  silent 
so,  after  the  ac- 
ces.  Only  the 
lents  in  its  soI< 

imp  with  which 
•Rie  of  the  boys 

as  he  sat  there 
beginning  to 
nent,  when  ht 
>  he  turned  to 
>sing  the  door 
bbie  then  gave 
ming.  Where 
10  had  seemed 
etings. 

e    present,  he 
1  been  kept  at 


Christian  Work. 


Ill 


consid'.iable  self-sacrifice,  and  now  there  would 
not  be  any  meeting,  and  lie  would  have  very  lit- 
tle annoyance  with  it  after  all. 

But  he  was  disappointed.  Robbie  opened  his 
little  pocket  Bible  immediately,  saying : 

"  We  need  not  wait  further,  we  shall  be  the 
only  ones  to-night." 

Dick  moved  uneasily  on  his  seat ;  this  was  go- 
ing to  be  worse  than  he  bargained  for.  A  con- 
gregation of  two  was  likely  to  be  far  more  per- 
sonal in  its  tendency  than  a  much  larger  one 
would  be. 

Robbie  chose  the  story  of  Christ's  crucifixion 
which  he  read  with  a  pathos  not  often  heard. 
He  read  as  if  it  bad  been  the  death  scene  of  a 
friend  whom  he  knew  and  loved  above  all  others. 
His  own  tears  were  flowing  before  he  had  fin- 
ished, and  Dick,  too,  came  to  listen  as  he  had 
never  done  before  to  that  well-known  story.  It 
seemed  only  a  fitting  close  to  those  sad  words 
when  Robbie,  falling  on  his  knees,  poured  out 
his  full  heart  to  that  crucified,  yet  now  exalted 
.Friend  and  Saviour. 


_^™r 


Il 


l:il 


iia 


Robbie  Mtrtdith. 


Dick  at  first  trembled,  an^  then  as  his  compan- 
ion's petitions  grew  more  fervent,  the  tears  came 
dropping  on  the  bench  before  him.  When  Rob- 
bie ceased  he  did  not  wait  for  an  invitation  to 
pray,  but  with  strong  emotion,  cried  : 

"  O  Lord  forgive  me  a  wicked  sinner  I  I  have 
tried  to  forget  that  I  have  a  soul  to  save,  but  I 
want  to  be  one  of  thy  followers.  Help  rae  to 
overcome  Satan  and  my  own  wicked  heart." 

This  prayer  was  mote  than  Robbie  dared  to 
expect,  and  the  conversation  they  held,  as  they 
followed  the  moon-lit  path  across  the  meadows, 
encouraged  him  still  more.  He  learned  then 
that  his  companion  had,  since  first  the  meetings 
began,  been  anxious  about  his  soul,  but  they  had 
come  to  an  end,  and  he  was  apparently  as  far 
from  being  a  Christian  as  when  they  commenced  ; 
and  as  the  days  went  by,  and  things  began  to 
settle  back  into  their  old  grooves,  he  thought  less 
and  less  of  religious  subjects,  and  was  trying  to 
satisfy  the  workings  of  an  uneasy  conscience  by 
promises  that  when  he  got  older,  or  at  the  very 
first  revival  he  would  certainly  be  a  Christian; 


Christian   Work. 


113 


1  as  his  compan* 
,  the  tears  came 
n.  When  Rob- 
in invitation  to 
led : 

linnerl  I  have 
I  to  save,  but  I 
Help  me  to 
ced  heart." 
obbie  dared  to 
y  held,  as  they 

the  meadows, 
!  learned  then 
It  the  meetings 
il,  but  they  had 
Jarently  as  far 
sy  commenced  ; 
lings  began  to 
tie  thought  less 
I  was  trying  to 

conscience  by 
or  at  the  very 
«  a  Christian; 

IWiUJ-ii ,     I.      , 


but  the  fear  would  haunt  him  that  before  that 
time  would  come  he  might  be  suddenly  called  to 
appear  before  God. 

"  Now,  he  said,  "  I  am  afraid  It  is  too  late,  the 
door  of  mercy  may  be  simt  against  me  forever." 

"  Ah,  that  cannot  be,"  Robbie  replied ;  "  we 
never  have  these  fears  about  our  soul's  salvation 
if  there  is  no  chance  for  us  to  be  saved ;  it  is 
only  when  we  cease  to  feel  that  there  is  danger." 

They  parted  at  the  fence,  Robbie  going  home 
wondering  at  his  Master's  gracious  approval  of 
his  newly  begun  work  ;  Dick  to  the  silent  barn, 
there,  alone,  to  pour  out  his  soul  in  agonizing  pe- 
tlons  for  mercy.  Before  this  he  had  set  bis  own 
time  to  come  to  Jesus.  Secure  as  he  felt  himself 
in  youth  and  health,  now  he  must  wait  God's 

time. 

For  several  days  he  carried  his  burden.  Rob- 
bie prayed  and  reasoned  with  him  all  in  vain,  the 
plan  of  salvation  through  faith  in  Christ  was  so 
simple  he  failed  to  see  the  wonderful  ease  with 
whicl-  he  might  find  pardon. 


I'M 


WSSmm 


"4 


Robbie  Meredith. 


In  the  Wednesday  evening  prayer-meeting  he 
stood  up  and  told,  as  simply  as  a  little  child 
might  have  done,  through  what  he  had  passed. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  said,  with  frank  simplic- 
ity, "what  else  may  avail,  but  perhaps  God 
would  help  me  if  you  would  all  unite  in  asking 
him." 

They  all  did,  or  so  it  seemed  from  the  influence 
instantly  pervading  the  house,  but  before  a  single 
prayer  had  been  audibly  uttered,  peace,  a  great 
peace,  was  filling  the  boy's  glad  heart. 

Henceforth  Robbie  had  one  to  encourage  and 
assist  him  whose  whole  heart  was  in  the  work. 


rayer-nieeting  he 
as  a  little  child 
lie  had  passed, 
h  frank  simplic- 
it  perhaps  God 
i  unite  in  asking 

•om  the  influence 

at  before  a  single 

:d,  peace,  a  great 

heart, 

to  encourage  and 

IS  in  the  work. 


the  quiet  country  hamlet  the  time  passed 
uneventfully  by.  There  was  little  to  break 
the  monotony.  An  occasional  death,  a  still  rarer 
wedding,  and  the  birth  record  slowly  filling  up, 
these  were  the  most  marked  epochs  to  engross 
the  thoughts  and  conversation  of  Robbie's  neigh- 
bors. 

Three  years  thus  passed  away,  and  then 
changes  began  to  come.  During  that  time  he 
had  faithfully  endeavored  to  make  the  very  most 
of  his  few  opportunities ;  scarcely  an  hour  was 

suffered  to  run  to  waste.     His  minister's  library, 

(116) 


Ill  :"\r- 


ii6 


Robbie  Meredith. 


as  well  as  help,  were  freely  offered,  and  a  use 
made  of  them  that  might  have  shamed  many  a 
university  student. 

The  winter  evenings  were  his  richest  harvest 
time.  History  and  poetry,  travels,  essays  and 
biographies,  were  all  read  with  avidity,  and  copi- 
ous notes  taken  in  the  boy's  own  untutored  fash- 
ion, while  the  mysteries  of  the  Greek  and  Latin 
languages  were  being  gradually  unfolded,  with 
several  of  the  na  ural  sciences. 

Robbie  believed  it  to  be  but  a  smattering  of 
each  that  he  was  acquiring,  but  he  was  surprised 
in  after  years  at  the  amount  of  knowledge  he  had 
gained  in  those  formative  days. 

The  gaunt  shadow  of  their  early  poverty  was 
no  longer  hanging  over  them.  Helen,  although 
still  very  young,  had  become  fitted  for  a  teacher, 
and  was  now  more  than  able  to  support  herself ; 
while  Robbie  found  no  trouble  in  making  both 
ends  of  the  year  meet  comfortably.  No  debts 
troubled  them,  and  the  book  account  had  long 
since  closed  at  Phalen's  store. 


■Mb^. 


;red,  and  a  use 
shamed  many  a 

richest  harvest 
xls,  essays  and 
vidity,  and  copi- 

untutored  fash- 
yreek  and  Latin 
r  unfolded,  with 

a  smattering  of 
le  was  surprised 
nowledge  he  had 

arly  poverty  was 
Helen,  although 
ted  for  a  teacher, 
support  herself; 
in  making  both 
tably.  No  debts 
iccbunt  had  long 


Changes, 


"7 


Three  cows  ruminated  contentedly  in  the  pas- 
ture lot,  and  Mary  seemed  capable  of  developing 
into  a  womanhood  equal  to  the  task  of  attending 
a  dozen  cows. 

Helen  could  not  imbue  her  with  her  own  ambi- 
tious notions  abmit  teaching  school,  and  so  rising 
in  the  world.  With  a  careless  independence  she 
maintained  that  helping  her  mother  and  Robbie 
on  the  farm,  or  even  working  it  herself,  was  fully 
as  respectable  as  dress-making  or  school-teach- 
ing.  "  Besides,"  she  would  add,  "  I  like  it  better, 
and  I  am  far  more  my  own  mistress,  and  that  is 
worth  a  good  deal." 

She  resented  all  her  ambitious  plans  for  Rob- 
bie ;  unlike  as  the  two  were  in  their  tastes,  there 
was  yet  a  strong  affection  between  them,  and 
perhaps  no  one  knew  the  cherished  hopes  of  the 
quiet  lad  better  than  his  healthy,  impulsive  sister. 
She  hoped  one  day,  and  that  no  very  distant  one, 
to  take  charge  of  the  farm  herself  and  support 
the  little  mother,  and  keep  the  home  together, 
letting  Robbie  go  out  into  the  world  unfettered 


m 


■mm 


HSif 


-i!! 


ii8 


Robbie  Meredith. 


to  seek  the  education  he  could  never  gain  at 
home. 

Robbie  had  several  times  been  amused  by 
grave  hints  as  to  her  future  plans.  She  was  now 
no  longer  kept  at  home  for  want  of  suitable  ha- 
biliments to  appear  at  Sunday-school  and  church. 
.  Spare  hours  were  diligently  employed  in  man- 
ufacturing yarn  into  garments  that  found  ready 
purchasers  in  the  nearest  town.  In  this  way 
their  unassuming  wardrobe  was  kept  amply  sup- 
plied. 

.  No  wonder  the  little  mother  looked  upon  her 
children,  clever  in  their  several  ways,  with  all  a 
fond  parent's  pride. 

Robbie  and  Dick  still  held  their  little  prayer- 
meeting  in  the  old  red  school-house ;  and  as  the 
years  went  by  they  had  cause  for  encouragement 
in  seeing  that  their  efforts  were  not  lost.  Dick 
had  confided  to  Robbie  his  ardent  longing  to 
give  his  life  and  talents,  if  he  had  any,  to  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Lord. 

"  I  should  like  best  of  all,"  he  would  say,  "  to 


never  gain  at 

;en  amused  by 
.  She  was  now 
t  of  suitable  ha- 
lool  and  church, 
iployed  in  man- 
lat  found  ready 
i.  In  this  way 
kept  amply  sup- 

ooked  upon  her 
ways,  with  all  a 

eir  little  prayer- 
use  ;  and  as  the 
■  encouragement 
not  lost.  Dick 
lent  longing  to 
I  any,  to  the  ser- 

:  would  say,  "  to 


Changes. 


119 


be  a  missionary ;  but  if  I  am  not  clever  enough 
for  that,  if  I  could  just  work  for  Christ  and  poor 
souls  in  the  humblest  way  I  should  be  satisfied." 
Robbie  urged  him  to  study  something  useful 
every  spare  moment,  and,  if  he  could  get  his  fa- 
ther's consent  and  help,  go  to  college  and  get  the 
best  possible  J)reparation  for  the  work  of  the  min- 
istry. 

Dick  could  not  find  courage  to  tell  his  father 
his  wish,  so  one  day  Robbie  spoke  for  him. 

"  Would  you  be  willing,"  he  asked,  "  for  Dick 
to  be  a  minister  ? " 

"To  be  a  minister!  Why,  what  put  that  in 
your  head  ? " 

"  Because  he  would  rather  be  that  than  any- 
thing in  the  world,  if  you  would  give  your  con- 
sent and  help  to  get  him  fitted." 

With  eyes,  in  which  a  strange  moisture  glis- 
tened, the  kind  old  man  fervently  answered : 

••  If  God  will  honor  me  enough  to  ask  my  boy 
for  his  work,  I  will  give  all  I  am  able  to  prepare 
him  for  it ;  you  may  tell  him  so  if  he  don't  want 


mmmm 


M 


^ 


1 20 


Robbie  Meredith. 


to  talk  with  me  about  it." 

"  Oh,  he  was  afraid  for  fear  you  would  not  be 
willing,  he  will  be  very  glad  to  talk  to  you  about 
it  now." 

The  next  week  Dick's  studies  commenced ;  he 
went  with  Robbie  to  his  pastor's  study,  where  he 
continued  taking  lessons  until  the  opening  of 
another  academical  year  in  the  college,  whither 
his  father  purposed  sending  him. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  preach,  too,  Robbie  ?  " 
Dick  inquired  of  him  one  day  after  lessons. 

"  Yes,  if  the  Lord  called  me,  but  maybe  there 
is  something  else  for  me  to  do.  I  mean  to  get 
all  the  knowledge  I  can,  and  then  be  ready  as  far 
as  possible  for  whatever  my  life-work  may  be." 

When  Marv  uiscr^vered  that  Robbie  could  get 
through  college  on  account  of  the  advanced  state 
of  his  studies  a  year  sooner  than  Dick,  her  deter- 
mination was  taken  that  he  should  go.  She 
^  knew  they  could  manage  without  him,  and  per- 
haps be  able  to  help  him,  too. 

If  he  were  only  going  to  preach,  she  regret- 


lU  would  not  be 
Ik  to  you  about 

ommenced;  he 
study,  where  he 
the  opening  of 
college,  whither 

,  too,  Robbie  ? " 
er  lessons, 
but  maybe  there 
I  mean  to  get 
1  be  ready  as  far 
work  may  be." 
lobbie  couJd  get 
e  advanced  state 
Dick,  her  deter- 
should   go.     She 
ut  him,  and  per- 

each,  she  regret- 


Cftanges. 


121 


fully  thought,  the  church  would  help  him,  as 
there  was  provision  made  in  the  institution  for 
indigent  students. 
She  said  to  him  one  day : 
"  Why  can't  you  be  a  minister,  too,  Robbie, 
and  then  you  could  get  through  college?" 

"What  if  the  Lord  does  not  wish  me  to 
preach  ?  Besides,  we  have  been  helped  so  much 
in  the  past,  I  could  not  think  of  being  indebted 
to  others  for  my  education,  not  while  I  can  get  it 

myself." 
Mary  knew  it  would  be  no  use  to  reason  with 

him,  so  she  said : 
"Couldn't  you  teach  school,  then,  and  earn  the 

money  ? " 

"But  what  would  you  do  without  me  at 
home?"  Robbie  looked  into  those  fearless 
brown  eyes  that  often  shone  so  grandly  when 
some  difficulty  was  in  her  path. 

"Oh!  if  you  and  mother  would  only  let  me 
try,  I  know  we  could  make  a  living  here  alone; 


laa 


Robbie  Meredith. 


you  could  help  us  in  the  holidays ;  and  see  how 
much  butter  and  cloth  I  can  make,  more  thaa 
enough  to  buy  all  we  need  and  pay  for  hired  help 
too." 

"  I  should  be  ashamed  to  lay  such  a  burden  on 
a  young  girl's  shoulders." 

"  But  it  would  be  a  pleasure,  Robbie.  You  do 
not  know  how  glad  I  should  be  if  you  would  only 
let  me  try,  and  if  I  fail,  you  can  come  home  and 
there  would  not  be  much  lost." 

Robbie  did  not  reply,  but  Mary  could  not  but 
see  the  eager  look  in  his  face  as  he  turned 
thoughtfully  away. 

The  next  step  would  be  to  gain  her  mother's 
co-operation,  then  success  would  be  certain.  In 
this  she  succeeded  beyond  her  expectations. 
Her  mother  she  found  fully  as  anxious  as  herself 
to  have  Robbie  go ;  and  when  the  plan  was  men- 
tioned in  the  letter  iuimediately  dispatched  to 
Helen,  the  latter  gladly  offered  to  make  every 
sacrifice  to  help  Robbie  on. 


I. 


Changes. 


123 


ys ;  and  see  how 
nake,  more  than 
ay  for  hired  help 

• 

uch  a  burden  on 

lobbie.     You  do 

you  would  only 

come  home  and 

ry  could  not  but 
e  as  he  turned 

in  her  mother's 
be  certain.  In 
:r  expectations, 
ixious  as  herself 
e  plan  was  men- 
y  dispatched  to 
to  make  every 


Farmer  Williams  also  volunteered  every  assist- 
ance in  his  power.  "  I  will  take  charge  of  your 
women  folks,"  he  said,  "  and  if  I  think  they  are 
doing  too  much,  I  will  send  for  you  to  come 

home." 

Surely  the  way  was  getting  very  plain  before 
Robbie.  That  spring  he  worked  harder  than 
ever.  A  large  grain  crop  was  put  in,  this  he 
might  be  able  to  get  stored  himself,  and  if  not, 
Mary  would  be  obliged  to  hire  help.  As  for 
roots,  he  was  pretty  certain  she  would  store  them 

unaided. 

She  wondered  at  the  narrow  strip  of  potatoes 
and  the  slim  vegetable  garden.  It  did  not  occur 
to  her  that  Robbie  had  a  purpose  in  sowing  the 
acres  of  wheat  and  barley,  and  that  it  was  to  save 

her  h€  planned  so  well. 

It  proved  an  early  season  that  year,  providen- 
tially  so  to  Robbie,  for  he  was  able  to  get  the 
hay  and  grain  harvested,  and  only  lost  a  week  or 
two  at  the  beginning  of  school.     To  be  sure  his 


'< 


134 


Robbie  Mtredith. 


face  was  as  brown  as  a  nut,  so  at  least  Mary  told 
him,  and  his  hands  hard  with  honest  labor ;  but 
the  light  in  those  soft  gray  eyes  was  just  as 
bright  as  if  he  had  not  faced  the  summer's  heat 
in  the  meadow  lands  about  his  home. 


"BIB* 


i. 

It  least  Mary  told 
onest  labor;  but 
:ye8  was  just  as 
be  summer's  heat 
lome. 


CHAPTER  X. 

001  NO  TO  COLLEGE. 

^  HE  day  came  at  last  when  Robbie  must 
leave  the  quiet,  happ>  home  and  '.he  little 
mother,  who  seemed  to  take,  as  yet,  all  the  room 
in  that  still  boyish  heart. 

The  day  before  he  was  to  leave,  it  had  been 
raining,  a  gentle,  steady,  down-dropping  from  the 
leaden  skies,  and   so,  instead  of  going  to  say 
good-by  to  his  neighbors  as  he  had  purposed, 
Robbie  had  all  the  day  at  home  with  his  mother. 
They  were  packing  his  clothes,  not  a  very 
heavy  task  it  must  be  confessed,  but  Mrs.  Mere- 
dith  and  Mary  had  done  their  best  to  make  him 
decently  comfortable ;  and  of  one  portion  of  his 
wardrobe  Robbie  would  certainly  have  no  cause 

1126) 


.ir«,    .,  MSalMM 


! 


m 

I* 


Hoddit  Meredith. 

to  be  ashamed,— the  snowy  shirts  with  the  neatly 
stitched  linen  fronts. 

"  No  one  need  know,"  Mary  said,  consolingly, 
"  but  what  they  arc  all  linen." 

"  I  do  not  wish  any  one  to  think  so,  if  they 
think  about  it  at  all,"  Robbie  replied ;  "  for  a  boy 
who  has  to  work  his  way  at  school  should  not  in- 
dulge in  such  extravagance." 

Mary  had  manufactured  him  a  suit  of  gray 
homespun ;  it  was  fine  and  smooth,  and  when  it 
was  ready  for  him  to  wear  she  thought  her  tall 
broad-shouldered  boy  looked  his  very  best  in  it. 
It  was  to  be  his  every-day  suit. 

"  You  need  not  be  very  careful  of  it,"  she  said 
to  him  before  leaving,  "for  I  have  saved  wool 
enough  to  make  you  another  suit  by  Christmas ; 
and  if  you  see  any  poor  fellow  there  short  of 
socks,  "  may  share  with  him,  for  there  are 
more  than  enough  to  last  you  a  year,"  and  she 
pointed  to  a  goodly  heap  of  soft  white  wool  ones. 

His  books  he  packed  himself,  and  then  sat 
watching  while  his  mother  and  Mary  laid  his  gar- 


i 


Going  to  College. 


127 


■  with  the  neatly 

laid,  consolingly, 

hink  80,  if  they 
lied ;  "  for  a  boy 
>1  should  not  in- 

a  suit  of  gray 
)th,  and  when  it 
thought  her  tall 

very  best  in  it. 

of  it,"  she  said 
ave  saved  wool 
:  by  Christmas ; 

there  short  of 
I,  for  there  are 
year,"  and  she 
^hite  wool  ones. 
,  and  then  sat 
ary  laid  his  gar- 


ments, one  by  one,  carefully  within  the  large  old- 
fasliioncd  trunk  that  had  belonged  to  his  father. 

At  last  everything  was  done,  Robbie  did  not 
know  how  lingeringly,  as  well  as  lovingly,  his 
mother  had  loitered  over  that  task.  There 
seemed  so  little  now  that  she  could  do  for  her 
boy ;  a  mother's  heart  generally  prophesies  truly, 
and  she  knew  in  her  own  heart  that  he  would  no 
longer  be  all  her  own  as  he  had  in  those  precious 
years  now  gone  forever.  She  knew  he  would 
never  cease  to  love  her,  but  still  he  could  not 
need  her  in  the  prosperous  busy  future  she 
believed  to  be  before  him,  as  he  had  done  in  the 
pinched,  ofttimcs  sorrowful  past,  that  now  seemed 
so  blessed. 

The  evening  wore  on,  and  still  the  rain-drops 
were  pattering  against  the  old,  gray  shingles  tiiat 
did  not  turn  the  dampness  as  once  they  did. 

"  How  lonely  we  shall  be  when  you  are  away, 
and  we  here  listening  alone  to  the  summer  rains 
and  winter  storms,"  Mrs.  Meredith  said,  with  a 
quiver  in  her  voice. 


I 


I 


Robbie  Meredith. 


Oh,  mother,  that  is  what  makes  mr  feel  more 
sad  than  glad  to-night,  the  thought  of  your  lone- 
liness," Robbie  sadly  replied.  "Sometimes  I 
wish  I  had  never  thought  of  going,  we  were  just 
beginning  to  get  so  comfortable,  and  now  there 
will  be  nothing  but  pinching  and  starving  just 
like  it  has  been  for  years." 

"  Never  mind,  Robbie,  we  may  have  a  pleasant 
home  again  some  time.  I  know  I  shall  be  happy 
if  that  good  time  ever  comes." 

"  I  need  not  stay  very  long  away  if  you  find  it 
too  hard  and  lonely  getting  on  here.  I  can  easily 
come,  and  maybe  it's  as  much  my  duty  to  stay 
and  make  you  comfortable  and  happy,  as  to  go  to 
college  to  try  and  fit  myself  to  do  some  great 
work  that,  after  all,  may  never  come  to  me  to  get 

done."  ' 

Mary  had   not  spoken.     Her  good,  healthy, 

common  sense  view  of  the  matter  set  both  the 

mother  and  her  son  in  a  happier  mood. 

"Don't  let  us  look  at  the  gloomy  side  any 

longer,"  she  said,  cheerily ;   "  if  every  one  gave 


yo 


wi 


sw 


Going  to  CoVLegt. 


129 


2S  mr  feel  more 
it  of  your  lone- 

"  Sometimes  I 
g,  we  were  just 

and  now  there 
d  starving  just 

have  a  pleasant 
I  shall  be  happy 

ay  if  you  find  it 
;re.  I  can  easily 
my  duty  to  stay 
lappy,  as  to  go  to 
0  do  some  great 
ome  to  me  to  get 

■■#■     . 
;r  good,  healthy, 
Iter  set  both  the 
r  mood. 

gloomy  side  any 
f  every  one  gave 


way  so  easily,  the  world  would  soon  be  going 
backward.  Of  course  it  seems  hard  to-night  to 
have  Robbie  leave  us,  but  we  shall  be  looking 
soon  for  his  letters,  and  then  better  still  to  see 
him  home  again  in  our  old  house  a  gentleman. 
You  will  forget,  mother,  all  your  present  sorrow 
and  loneliness  in  the  pride  you  will  take  in  the 
handsome,  clever  man  who  will  still  honor  you  as 
the  best  little  mother  in  the  wide  world." 

"  Well  done,  Mary !  What  a  sunbeam  you  are 
in  the  gloom  we  were  straying  into  ;  if  I  could 
only  have  you  with  me  when  I  get  discouraged 
as  I  am  certain  I  shall ) " 

"  Well,  you  see,  mother  needs  me  most,  but  if 
you  don't  get  a  wife  too  soon  we  will  go  and  live 
with  you,  won't  we,  mother?" 

"  Perhaps  so,  Mary." 

"  Ah,  Mary !  I  fear  I  need  never  promise  my- 
self much  pleasure  from  having  you  in  my  home ; 
some  lucky  fellow  will  rol)  me  of  that,  I  am  cer- 
tain." 

"  There  is  a  possibility,"  was  the  half  saucy  an- 
swer.   But  there  did  not  seem  to  be,  for  the 


riiv.jafsjifcAi^feA'W'-- 


Ijo 


Hobbi*  Mtreditk. 


i| ! 


light,  brave-hearted  girl  did  not  take  so  kindly  to 
beaux  as  the  generality  of  her  sex  at  her  age, 
much  to  poor  Dick's  disappointment,  who  truly 
Joved  the  noble  girl. 

They  did  not  get  to  talking  so  gloomily  again, 
but  the  next  morning,  when  the  wagon  came  to 
drive  Robbie  to  the  station  with  his  luggage, 
Mrs.  Meredith  broke  down.  Robbie  could  not 
help  seeing  that  the  breakfast  she  pretended  to 
eat,  and  which  was  so  daintily  prepared  by  his 
loving  sister's  hands,  was  scarcely  touched,  while 
his  own  appetite  was  not  much  better.  She 
could  not  speak  the  good-by,  but  the  soft  blue 
eyes  that  had  rarely  looked  upon  him  but  in  love 
were  overflowing,  while  the  gentle  face,  paler 
than  usual,  was  sadly  watching  the  last  of  her 
boy. 

Mary  brushed  away  a  few  tears  in  her  matter 
of  fact  way,  as  though  it  were  qrite  a  usual  cir- 
cumstance for  her  to  weep,  and  said  good-by  as 
calmly  as  if  he  were  a  stranger  about  to  leave 
their  fireside. 

But  neither  Robbie  nor  his  mother  dreamed  bow 


Going  to  ColUgo. 


I3> 


ke  so  kindly  to 
ex  at  her  age, 
lent,  who  truly 

gloomily  again, 
ivagon  came  to 
h  his  luggage, 
3bie  could  not 
le  pretended  to 
repared  by  his 
touched,  while 
)  better.  She 
:  the  soft  blue 
lim  but  in  luve 
tie  face,  paler 
he  last  of  her 

in  her  matter 
'ite  a  usual  cir- 
aid  good-by  as 
ibout  to  leave 

ar  dreamed  bow 


^^w-^SS?*' 


(tad  a  look  her  face  wore  as  she  drove  the  cows 
to  pasture,  nor  heard  the  low  sobs  that  could  not 
be  restrained  now  that  she  was  alone.  She  had 
made  light  of  the  burden  she  bad  assumed  as 
though  it  were  mere  child's  play,  but  when  Rob- 
bie  was  really  gone,  no  wonder  the  scarcely  more 
than  child  should  shrink  from  the  care  of  house 
and  farm  with  a  momentary  terror. 

The  long,  cold  winter  lay  before  her,  with  the 
work  outside  and  in  the  house  to  be  attended  to, 
through  cold  and  storm ;  and  what  she  dreaded 
more  than  this  was  the  solitude  and  loneliness  of 
their  secluded  home. 

The  cows  were  a  long  time  getting  settled  to 
their  grazing  lot,  or  so  it  might  have  seemed  to 
Mrs.  Meredith  had  she  not  been  oblivious  to 
everything  but  Robbie's  departure. 

Mary  came  home  at  last ;  she  had  bathed  her 
hot  face  first  in  the  brook  that  skirted  the  farther 
side  of  the  meadow,  and  when  she  entered  the 
clean  well-ordered  kitchen,  whom  should  she  see 
but  Nancy,  with  her  bonnet  off  and  laid  away 


glg^_ 


Robbie  Meredith, 

with  her  shawl  and  parasol  on  the  front  room 
table. 

Nancy  could  afford  now  to  indulge  in  those 
feminine  bits  of  adornment  so  dear  to  her  heart, 
but  which  had  hitherto  been  a  coveted  pleasure. 
Once  Nancy's  Sunday  best  bonnet  could  hang 
becomingly  on  a  peg  in  Mrs.  Meredith's  kitchen, 
but  times  were  changed  now,  those  gay  flowers 
and  feathers  would  ill  become  the  kitchen  wall. 

Mary  felt  greatly  relieved  when  she  saw  her 
mother  would  be  comforted  better  by  that  kind 
old  maiden  than  by  any  one,  her  own  heart  was 
full,  and  it  probably  was  that  which  made  her  so 
demonstrative,  for  she  surprised  Nancy  by  going 
directly  to  her  side,  and  with  the  plump  fair  arms 
about  the  wrinkled  neck,  gave  the  homely  mouth 
an  affectionate  kiss,  saying  as  she  did  so : 

"  You  are  more  welcome  than  violets  in  spring. 
I  am  so  glad  your  things  are  off,  can't  you  stay 
a  few  days  with  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  longer,  if  you  care  to  have  me." 

Mary  gladly  extended  an  indefinite  welcome. 


in 
th 
h< 
th 

e£ 
ti 


w 

b< 
c: 


-•^^asx-^is!. 


Going  to  ColUfgt. 


ge  in  those 
to  her  heart, 
ed  pleasure. 

could  hang 
Lh's  kitchen, 

gay  flowers 
:chen  wall, 
she  saw  her 
>y  that  kind 
n  heart  was 
made  her  so 
icy  by  going 
mp  fair  arms 
»mely  mouth 
d  so: 

its  in  spring, 
n't  you  stay 

ave  me." 
te  welcome. 


inly  wishing  she  would  make  her  home  with 
them.  Her  heart  was  overjoyed  before  night  to 
hear  Nancy  make  the  proposal  to  her  mother 
that  she  should  come  and  board  with  them. 

"  Oh,  say  yes  I  won't  you,  mother  ? "  Mary 
eagerly  exclaimed  without  giving  her  mother 
time  to  reply. 

"  Of  course  I  would  gladly  have  her  come  if 
she  can  content  herself  where  it  is  so  lonely," 
was  the  pleased  reply.  So  it  was  settled,  and 
before  another  week  Nancy  was  quite  domesti- 
cated in  her  new  home. 


ODAY  the  last  term  ends."    This  was 

Mrs.    Meredith's    first    thought,    one 

bright  June  morning,  when  she  awoke;    they 

were  the  first  words  she  heard  from  Mary's  lips, 

as  that  delighted  damsel  came  in  from  the  clover 

and  scented,  dewy  air,  with  overflowing  buckets 

of  foamy  milk. 

How  those  two  loving  hearts  had  counted  the 

days,  and  even  hours,  to  this  bright  day  when 

school  would  be  done,  and  then  another  day  or 

two  and  Robbie  would  be  with  them. 

It  had  seemed  to  Mrs.  Meredith  that  the  slow* 
(134) 


bi 
ir 

a 

1( 

c 

t 

I 


% 


,n.,«»ni«»fi,.(.  ..»»»■» 


Vacation. 


Hi 


I. "  This  was 
ibought,  one 
iwoke ;  they 
I  Mary's  lips, 
Dm  the  clover 
wing  buckets 

I  counted  the 

ht  day  when 

lother  day  or 

I. 

that  the  slow- 


moving  hours  of  childhood  had  returned,  so 
slowly  did  the  days  and  weeks  roll  round.  Every 
week  there  had  been  letters  from  Robbie;  long, 
complete  ones,  but  they  only  increased  the  long- 
ing to  see  the  writer. 

She  had  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that 
he  took  more  than  his  share  of  school  honors. 
This  she  had  learned  through  Dick's  letters  to 
his  father.  His  friend  and  school-mate  seemed 
as  proud  of  Robbie's  success  as  if  they  had  been 

brothers. 

That  day  wore  slowly  away  to  Mrs.  Meredith, 
but  not  so  to  Mary.    Such  a  scouring  and  clean- 
ing, arranging  and  re-arranging  of  their  house 
and  its  furnishings,  had  never  been.     Home  must 
look  its  brightest,  or  Robbie  might  feel  the  con- 
contrast  too  strongly  between  the  poor  little  cot- 
tage and  the  fine  college  and  finer  homes  sur- 
rounding it,  to  which  the  poor  f  ,irm-i4^d  had  now 
become  a  welcome  visitor. 

But  when  all  her  genius  and  strength,  too,  had 
been  exhausted,  a  look  of  dissatisfaction  clouded 


1  I 


I  I 


fjtf 


Robbis  Meredith. 


the  brave,  hopeful  face,  the  house  was  so  bare 
and  poor. 

She  had  painted  the  parlor  floor,  together  with 
the  faded  wood-work,  while  she  had  decorated  the 
walls  with  a  pretty  light  bit  of  papering;  but  the 
curtains,  older  than  she  was.  were  sadly  faded, 
and  the  darns  were  multitudinous,  while  the  rest 
of  the  furniture  was  equally  shabby. 

Robbie's  bed-room,  though,  was  a  perfect  little 
conservatory.  She  had  gathered  vines  from  the 
wood,  and  robbed  her  own  little  flower-plot,  to 
decorate  it 

The  evening  of  his  expected  arrival  came  at 
last.    AM  the  house  was  redolent  of  soap-suds 
and  cleanliness,  while  the  pantr,r  had  not  so  over- 
flowed with  delicacies  since  Mary's  .earliest  recol- 
lection.    Her  mother  had  been  dressed  long  ago 
and  watching  through  the  open  door,  where  Mary 
had  carried  her  easy  chair,  for  the  carriage  that 
was  expected  to  bring  the  boys  home  from  the 
station. 

Mary  had  so  many  finishing  touches  to  add  to 


\      ' 


ise  was  so  bare 

or,  together  with 
ad  decorated  the 
ipering;  but  the 
ire  sadly  faded, 
s,  while  the  rest 
by. 

5  a  perfect  little 

vines  from  the 

i  flower-plot,  to 

arrival  came  at 
It  of  soap-suds 
lad  not  so  over- 
s  .earliest  recol- 
Bssed  long  ago, 
or,  where  Mary 
B  carriage  that 
lome  from  the 

iches  to  add  to 


I 


Vacation. 


137 


parlor  and  kitchen  that  her  mother  at  last  began 
to  worry  lest  Robbie  should  come  and  find  her 
in  soiled  wrapper  and  tumbled  hair,  and  it  was 
only  in  obedience  to  her  mother's  command  that 
she  left  her  imaginary  work  to  make  herself  pre- 
sentable. 

There  was  plenty  of  time,  however,  for  the 
train  was  unusually  late  that  evening,  and  at  last 
Mary  decided  to  drive  home  the  cows  and  get  her 
milking  done.  Soon  old  White-face  and  her 
companions  saw  their  mistress  at  the  pasture 
bars,  and  sauntered  leisurely  down  in  answer  to 
her  call  through  the  perfumed  sunset  air. 

It  was  a  pretty  picture,  or  at  least  so  Dick 
thought,  as  he  crossed  the  lots  from  Mrs.  Mere- 
dith's to  nis  own  home,  when  he  saw  the  brown- 
haired  maiden  leaning  against  the  bars,  waiting 
for  the  cows  who  were  coming  at  her  call.     She 
did  not  know  he  was  there,  nor  did  he  make  her 
aware  of  his  presence.    It  was  only  when  she 
had  finished   milking  and  gone  into  the  house 
that  she  found  that  Robbie  bad  come. 


i 


■MmiMiMaai 


U. 


II) 


Robdit  Mtrtdith. 


How  he  had  grown,  and  how  handsome  he 
was,  she  thought  as  she  saw  him  through  the 
door.  He  did  not  hear  her  enter  the  room.  He 
was  Mitting  on  a  low  stool  at  his  mother's  side, 
her  thin  white  hand  stroking  the  thick  clustering 
curls.  She  went  softly  behind  him,  and  before 
he  was  aware  of  her  presence,  her  arms  were 
folded  about  him,  and  between  laughing  and  cry> 
ing  she  was  giving  him  his  welcome  home. 

They  had  not  much  appetite  for  Mary's  care- 
fully provided  tea,  and  after  they  arose  from  the 
table,  Robbie  proposed  that  they  take  a  stroll 
through  the  fields. 

"I  want  to  see  how  you  are  getting  on  as  a 
farmer,"  he  said  to  Mary ;  but  he  was  more  ftur- 
prised  than  pleased  when  he  saw  the  potato 
patch  and  field  of  grain,  especially  when  his 
mother  told  him  how  much  of  the  former  had 
been  performed  by  Mary,  and  how  small  a  debt 
now  remained  for  hired  help  in  getting  the  grain 
sowed. 

"She  has  been  at  the  spinning-wheel  before 


mssmm. 


„,„ma<mummim 


■■■Illllll 


^ 


Vaeation. 


139 


handsome  he 
1  through  the 
he  room.  He 
mother's  side, 
lick  clustering 
vn,  and  before 
er  arms  were 
(hing  and  cry- 
e  home, 
r  Mary's  care- 
rose  from  the 
take  a  stroll 

stting  on  ai  a 
fas  more  ftur- 
V  the  potato 
lly  when  his 
e  former  had 
'  small  a  debt 
ing  the  grain 


wheel  before 


sunrise  nearly  every  morning  this  summer,  and 
has  paid  for  the  work  done  in  that  way."  Mrs. 

Meredith  said. 
"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  Robbie  replied. 
"Why,  she  was  anxious  to  please  you  by  hav- 
ing a  good  crop  in,  Robbie." 

"  She  has  more  than  pleased  me,  mother.  I  do 
not  like  to  think  my  sister  is  working  like  a 
slave,  while  I  am  doing  next  to  nothing  with  my 
hands,  only  using  my  brain  a  little." 

"  It  has  not  hurt  me.  Robbie,  and  there  is  no 
disgrace  in  honest  iabor.  When  we  get  richer  it 
may  not  be  too  late  for  me  to  begin  studying 

too." 
«'  She  has  been  studying  every  spare  moment, 

Robbie,"  her  mother  said  fondly. 

"Your  time  shall  come  sooner,  perhaps,  than 
you  think  for.  my  brave  litUe  sister,"  Robbie  said 

tremulously. 

Before  they  reached  the  house  they  were 
joined  by  Dick.  He,  too,  had  greatly  changed, 
and  when  Mary  looked  into  that  bright,  pleasant 


I40 


Robbie  Meredith. 


face,  over  which  there  had  somehow  c«.«me  an  in- 
definable change  that  caused  a  feeling  of  shyness 
to  which  she  had  hitherto  been  a  stranger,  she 
inly  wondered  how  he  could  ever  have  fancied  a 
careless,  fun-loving  hoyden  like  herself. 

The  evening  was  short.  It  was  past  their 
usual  bed-time  when  the  lamp  was  lighted,  so 
that  midnight  was  not  very  far  distant  when 
Dick  arose  to  go. 

"  Shall  we  have  prayers  first  ? "  Robbie  asked. 
"  Your  folks  will  be  in  bed  long  before  this." 

Dick  complied,  and  taking  the  Bible,  read  a 
Psalm,  and  then,  4n  a  few  simple  words,  thanked 
the  Father  in  heaven  who  had  been  with  them 
through  the  departed  year,  and  had  spared  them 
to  meet  again. 

Mrs.  Meredith  and  Mary  were  now  no  longer 
in  doubt  as  to  Robbie's  plans  for  the  future. 
During  their  walk  through  the  meadow  that 
evening,  in  the  misty  gloaming,  he  had  told 
them  what  he  hoped  to  do  the  coming  year. 

"  I  shall  work  at  home  during  the  holidays," 


he  s 

take 

very 

kno\ 
« ' 

bie, 

was 
« 

ban! 

in  r 

Rot 

SOUl 
« 

« 

coll 
qui! 
and 
coll 


■imS^a^M-.- 


ow  ci>me  an  in- 
ling  of  shyness 
a  stranger,  she 

have  fancied  a 

rself. 

vas  past  their 

vas  lighted,  so 

distant  when 

Robbie  asked, 
lore  this." 

Bible,  read  a 
Bvords,  thanked 
;en  with  them 
d  spared  them 

now  no  longer 
or  the  future, 
meadow  that 
,  he  had  told 
ling  year, 
the  holidays," 


Vacation, 


141 


he  said,  "and  when  school  begins,  return  and 
take  a  different  way  of  living.  I  can  get  a  room 
very  cheaply,  and  board  myself,  while  Mary,  I 
know  will  supply  me  with  a  bed." 

"  Yes,  and  nearly  all  your  provisions,  too,  Rob- 
bie, if  it  don't  cost  too  much  to  got  them  there," 
was  the  hearty  reply. 

"  Ah,  Mary,  you  are  determined  on  making  me 
bankrupt.  I  shall  never  be  able  to  do  as  much 
in  return  for  you." 

"  I  do  not  like  to  hear  you  talk  in  that  way, 
Robbie ;  you  will  forgive  me  if  I  tell  you  that  it 
sounds  childish  to  me." 
"  Never  mindj  then,  I  won't  do  so  any  more." 
"  But  how  will  you  clothe  yourself  3nd  pay  the 
college  fees,  Robbie  ? "  his  mother  anxiously  in- 
quired.    She  knew  that  Mary,  with  all  her  energy 
and  thrift,  could  not  quite  support  their  young 
collegian. 

"  I  have  not  told  you  yet  that  the  Board  have 
offered  me  a  situation  as  under  tutor.  I  think  I 
am  indebted  to  Mr.  Carthen  for  this,  you  know 


1^ 


k 


149 


Robbie  Meredith. 


he  is  a  city  preacher  now.  and  his  church  is  quite 
convenient  to  the  college,  so  that  I  see  him 
oftener  than  when  he  was  here.  He  is  just  the 
same  kind  friend  as  ever." 

"  I  hope  the  Lord  will  bless  him  wherever  he 
may  go,"  Mrs.  Meredith  fervently  exclaimed. 

"  But  what  will  be  your  salary  ? "  his  practical 
sister  eagerly  asked. 

"  I  cannot  say  what,  but  it  will,  I  know,  be 
sufficient  to  help  me  greatly  in  my  economical 
way  of  living.  But,  mother,  I  am  planning  all 
this  so  smoothly,  and  I  have  not  a^ked  you  yet 
if  you  a  e  willing  I  should  return.  Do  you  not 
find  the  task  a  heavy  one,  getting  along  witho^i 

riyhelp?" 

"  We  find  it  lonely,  Robbie ;  but  i  should  far 
sooner  have  you  go ;  and  if  Mary  does  not  get 
wearied  you  need  :iOt  be  troubled  ;  for,  after  all, 
the  whole  burden  comes  on  her  young  shoul- 
ders." 

"  Never  fear  for  me,  Robbie.    I  believe  I  can 

get  on  finely  and  help  you,  toa" 


f 


Vacation. 


HZ 


1  church  is  quite 

that  I   see  him 

He  is  just  the 

him  wherevsr  he 
y  exclaimed. 
} "   his  practical 

will,  I  know,  be 
n  my  economical 
am  planning  all 
)t  a^ked  you  yet 
rn.  Do  you  not 
ng  along  witho^w 

but  i  should  far 
lary  does  not  get 
ed  ;  for,  after  all, 
der  young  shoul- 

;    I  believe  I  can 


And  86,  before  Dick  came  in  and  told  the 
proud  little  mother,  and  equally  proud  sister,  how 
nobly  their  boy  had  passed  his  examination,  and 
how  much  the  teachers  expected  from  him,  they 
had  cheerfully  consented  to  unother  year's  lone- 
liness. * 

And  so  the  short  vacation  passed.  Robbie 
scarcely  looked  inside  a  book,  except  to  give 
Mary  her  daily  lessons,  but  devoted  all  his  time 
to  working  on  the  farm,  and  patching  up  the 
house  and  barn,  both  of  which  sorely  needed 
thorough  repairing ;  or  better  still  to  be  pulled 
down  and  rebuilt,  but  probably  for  years  this 
could  not  be  donr. 

Dick's  evenings  were  spent  mostly  with  Rob- 
bie. The  latter  shrewdly  guessed  that  he  was 
not  the  magnet  attracting  his  friend  so  frequently 
to  the  old  brown  farm-house. 

Mary  had  lost  much  of  her  free,  playful  man- 
ner when  in  Dick's  society.  Only  now  and 
then  did  she  indulge  in  those  mischievous  gleams 
of  v/it  that  made  her  company  so  attractive  to 


both  old  and  young.  From  the  sparkle  of  his 
eyes,  and  the  merry  dimples  that  played  about 
his  face  at  such  rare  seasons,  Mrs.  Meredith  im- 
agined that  all  the  fun  had  not  been  absorbed  in 
his  nature  by  hard  study,  and  the  solemn  life- 
work  to  which  he  had  devoted  himself.  ' 

"  I  should  not  admire  and  like  him  half  so  well 
if  he  were  all  the  time  grave,"  Robbie  said,  in  an- 
swer to  a  somewhat  troubled  remark  of  his 
mother's  one  day  respecting  their  young  friend. 
"  He  can  be  just  as  good  and  earnest  as  if  he 
didn't  enjoy  Mary's  droll  humor;  and  I  only 
hope  he  will  get  her  to  brighten  all  his  life  some 
day  when  he  gets  ready  to  take  a  wife." 

"  Oh,  Robbie  I  our  little  girl  would  never  do 
for  a  minister's  wife ;  how  could  you  think  such 
a  thing?" 

"Why  not,  mother?" 

"She  is  too  lively.  I  am  afraid  she  would 
shock  her  husband's  people  with  her  quaint  say- 
ings." 

"  She  never  says  anything  but  what  is  honest 


and 
hai: 


Hi 
hei 
bel 
wh 
for 
mi 
Gi 
fit 
ec 
ke 

sp 
pe 

o\ 

lo 
a 


Mi 


sparkle  of  his 
t  played  about 
■s.  Meredith  im- 
een  absorbed  in 
he  solemn  life- 
nself. 

bim  half  so  well 
bbie  said,  in  an- 

retnark  of  his 
r  young  friend, 
earnest  as  if  he 
ar;  and  I  only 
all  his  life  some 
I  wife." 
would  never  do 

you  think  such 


Eraid  she  would 
I  her  quaint  say- 

t  what  is  honest 


VacaiioH. 


145 


and  pure.    It  is  just  what  the  world  needs,  more 
happy  and  unselfish  works  like  her." 

"  But  she  is  not  educated." 

"I  cannot    agree    with    you    there,  mother. 
Highly  cultured  she  certainly  is  not ;   but,  with 
her  few  advantages,  she  is  rarely  intelligent.     I 
believe  she  is  by  far  the  cleverest  of  the  three, 
which,  perhaps,  is  not  saying  much  for  her ;  and 
for  a  poor  man's  wife,  such  as  a  majority  of  the 
ministers  are,  she  has  the  very  best  education. 
Give  her  the  materials  and  she  will  cook  a  dinner 
fit  for  a  bishop.     She  has  learned  the  sternest 
economy,  and  she  is  certainly  a  good   house- 
keeper, as  our  poor,  shabby  home  hourly  testifies. 
Why,  mother,  when  I  begin  to  enumerate  her 
splendid  qualities,  I  am  led  to  think  her  almost 
perfect." 

"  Who  is  that  Robbie  is  waxing  so  eloquent 
over  ? "  Mary  asked,  as  she  came  into  the  room. 

"  I  was  only  telling  mother  what  a  happy  fel- 
low he  will  be  that  will  carry  you  away  to  make 
a  home  for  him  some  day." 


146  Robbit  Meredith. 


\-\\\ 


''  Mother  don't  want  any  one  to  carry  me 
away." 

"  I  could  not  say  that  I  wanted  you  to  remain 
sing'e  always,  Mary.  Every  true  man  and 
woman  should  have  a  mate  and  nest  of  their 
own." 

"  Ah  t  that  means  you,  too.  Master  Robbie.  I 
see  the  dove-cote  we  have  planned  for  some 
bright  coming  day  is  to  be  invaded  by  strangers ; 
and,  after  all,  our  ideal  home  has  been  in  the 
past,  not  future." 

"  I  had  rather  not  hear  you  talk  that  way,  my 
child,"  her  mother  said.  "  I  must  believe  that 
sometime  we  shall  all  be  together  again,  as  we 
have  been  in  the  past." 

"Not  here  in  the  old  weather-beaten  house. 
I  cannot  realize  that  Robbie  will  ever  make  the 
little  farm  and  the  quiet  village  his  home  after  he 
becomes  a  college  graduate." 

"  It  is  not  wise,  Mary,  to  think  or  plan  very 
much  about  so  distant  a  future  as  that.  I  have 
not  begun  to  think  what  I  may  do,  but  I  trust  to 
Him  who  has  guided  me  thus  far,  and  if  it  is  my 


fl 


VaeatioH. 


147 


d  you  to  remain 
true  man  and 
d  nest  of  their 

Lster  Robbie.  I 
nned  for  some 
id  by  strangers ; 
as  been  in  the 

ilk  that  way,  my 
iist  believe  that 
ler  again,  as  we 

;r-beaten  house. 
1  ever  make  the 
is  home  after  he 

ik  or  plan  very 
as  that.  I  have 
lo,  but  I  trust  to 
r,  and  if  it  is  my 


duty  to  come  back  here,  I  believe  I  should  be 
more  glad  than  sorry.  To-day  I  can  dream  of  no 
quieter  and  perhaps  happier  home  than  we  might 
have  here  together,  with  the  poverty  and  care 
forever  banished." 

"Wouldn't  you  want  another  woman  beside 
the  three  who  have  always  been  here  ? "  Mary 
asked. 

Robbie  smiled,  while  a  flush,  not  of  shame, 
flitted  over  his  fine  face. 

"  I  might  care,  some  day,  to  have  that  golden- 
haired  girl  who  gave  me  the  candies  in  Fhalen's 
store  so  long  ago,"  he  frankly  replied. 

"  Why,  Robbie !  do  you  ever  see  her  ? "  Mary 
eagerly  asked. 

"  Sometimes,"  was  the  quick  answer. 

"Where?" 

"  I  have  seen  her  in  church  a  few  times." 

"  You  do  not  like  to  be  questioned,  I  know ; 
but  will  you  not  tell  us  if  you  are  acquainted  with 
her?" 

"It  seems  to   me,  Mary,  I  was  always  ac- 


*'l 


Hi!; 


:'li 


1  I 


i  liil 


i!ii 


i    Jil 


Robbie  Meredith. 

quainted  with  her.  I  do  not  know  if  she  remem- 
bers me,  but  I  shall  never  forget  her,  even  if  I 
should  not  exchange  a  word  with  her  while  I  live. 
Are  you  satisfied  now,  little  girl  ? " 

"No,"  was  the  half  regretful  answer.  "I 
should  like  to  hear  ever  so  much  more." 

"  Well,  I  have  no  more  to  tell,  and  I  should 
not  have  told  you  so  much,  only  you  questioned 
me  so  closely.  I  shall  ask  the  same  frankness 
in  return  from  you  some  day." 

Mary  did  not  reply.  It  seemed  so  strange  to 
hear  Robbie  speak  so  quietly  about  his  love  af- 
fairs,—they  had.seemed  to  forget  their  mother's 
presence.  She,  perhaps,  was  thinking  of  a  long 
ago,  when  one  so  like  her  son  had  told  her  of 
his  love,  and  of  the  days  so  full  of  sweet,  strange 
joy  that  were  now  only  like  a  dream,  whose  mem- 
ory seemed  to  bless. 

■  Many  suns  rose  and  set,  and  many  times  the 
harvest  home  was  sung,  before  Mary  heard  Rob- 
bie mention  the  dream  child  of  his  boyhood,  for 
such  she  nlways  seemed  to  the  practical,  yat  im- 
aginative girl 


if  she  remem- 
her,  even  if  I 
;r  while  I  live. 


answer. 


"I 


lorc. 


and  I  should 
ou  questioned 
ime  frankness 

I  so  strange  to 
ut  his  love  af- 
their  mother's 
king  of  a  long 
ad  told  her  of 
sweet,  strange 
m,  whose  mem- 

nany  times  the 
ary  heard  Rob- 
lis  boyhood,  for 
ractical,  yat  im- 


CHAPTER  XII. 


HOME  AGAIK. 


'  T  last  the  day  came  when  Robbie  was  to 
graduate.  He  had  been  a  year  longer 
than"he  had  at  first  planned.  It  was  to  help 
lighten  the  burden  resting  on  the  dear  ones  at 
home,  that  he  had  taken  the  other  year,  and  also 
to  gain  a  thorough  groundwork  for  the  culture 
which  he  had  felt  would  but  begin  when  his  col- 
lege training  ceased.  He  was  thus  enabled  to 
devote  more  time  to  each  study  that  came  in  the 
course,  and  also  the  easier  to  earn  the  money 
necessary  to  pay  his  expenses. 


ISO 


Robbit  Mtrtdith. 


By  looking  for  It,  various  ways  for  doing  this 
were  presented.  He  was  not  above  performinjj 
any  kind  of  work,  providing  it  were  honest,  and 
this  when  he  was  taking  the  lead  of  his  classes 
and  occupying  the  position  given  him  as  the 
cleverest  student  in  the  institution. 

Someway  he  managed  to  impress  his  compan- 
ions with  his  own  just  ideas  of  labor,  to  such  an 
extent  that  it  was  seldom  he  was  sneered  at  for 
his  poverty,  and  the  comparatively  menial  posi- 
tion he  was  obliged  occasionally  to  assume. 

Mary  struggled  on  bravely  through  her  self- 
imposed  duties,  firmly  resisting  Robbie's  oft  re- 
newed  entreaties  that  they  should  dispose  of  the 
farm  and  come  to  the  city  where  siie  might  the 
better  gain  the  coveted  training  for  which  they 
were  mutually  anxious. 

Dick  had  added  his  influence,  but  all  to  no 
purpose. 

"  I  could  not  think  of  it  in  our  circumstances," 
she  had  said  to  Robbie  during  the  previous  holi- 
days.   "  I  can  work,  and  study,  and  read  here, 


ai 
s< 
a 


^'?*S(. 


Home  AgatH. 


151 


for  doing  this 
ve  perform  i  11  jj 
re  honest,  and 
of  his  classes 
n  him  as  the 

s  his  compan- 
tor,  to  such  an 
sneered  at  for 
yr  menial  posi- 
assume. 
)Ugh  her  self- 
>bbie's  oft  re- 
dispose  of  the 
ihe  might  the 
or  which  they 

but  all  to  no 

rcumstances," 
previous  holi- 
id  read  here, 


and  there  will  be  found  for  me  a  work  to  do 
somewhere,  even  if  I  am  uneducated,  after  you 
and  mother  cease  to  need  my  help." 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  pain  you,"  Robbie  replied ; 
"but  I  can't  half  enjoy  my  advantages  away  at 
school  while  I  remember  how  few  you  have 

here." 

••  I  have  health,  and  the  pure  air,  and  sunshine, 
and  the  happy  thought*  that  come  of  my  free 
mode  of  life.    I  doubt  if  any  of  those  highly  ed- 
ucated  ladies  you  so  much  admire  hold  any  glad- 
der intercourse  with  nature  than  I  do.    Remem- 
ber, Robbie,  if  I  have  not  been  trained  in  the 
schools,  and  God  has  seen  fit  to  withhold  that 
blessing  from  me,  I  have  not  been  quite  excluded 
from  the  world  of  thought;  but  have  managed, 
not  quite  unintelligently,  I  hope,  these  last  few 
years,  to  w?de  through  quite  a  goodly  number  of 
your  best  classical  writers.    I  have  nearly  every 
day  some  very  happpy  thoughts,  when  I  forget 
all  about  my  straightened  life,  and  our  humble 
surroundings,  and  the  doings  of  our  neighbors. 


153 


Xobbh  Meredith. 


\ 
I 


!  .; 


while  I  seem  to  hold  communion  with  that  which 
13  above  me.  You  may  smile  at  me  as  romantic, 
but  you  l^now  that  you  often  find  fault  with  me 
for  my  prosiness." 

"  I  may  be  mistaken,  Mary ;  there  is,  perhaps, 
a  truer  wisdom  than  what  is  gained  from  schools ; 
I  believe  I  have  erred  by  thinlting  you  could  not 
improve  unless  associated  with  the  refined  and 
cultured." 

"The  world  may  be  vastly  different  outside 
our  country  village,  but  since  I  have  been,  on 
your  account,  invited  among  the  richer  families, 
and  also  since  I  have  attended  the  Sewing  Circle, 
I  have  come  to  think  it  is  not  such  a  very  desira- 
ble thing  to  get  with'  those  whose  social  position 
is  so  much  better  than  our  own." 

"  I  hope  our  independent  little  girl  is  not  grow- 
ing censorious." 

"  I  hope  not,  too,  Robbie ;  but  I  have  heard 
you  say  'facts  are  stubborn  things.'  I  have 
come  home  from  those  gatherings  very  often  pos- 
sessed with  the  desire  to  be  just  as  rich  and  aris- 


Wl.  j.i.i,.il.l|l»^mHM,yjnJ>LL  11,111 


'    '  I   iwH 


T 


vith  that  which 
ne  as  romantic, 
1  fault  with  me 

icre  is,  perhaps, 
i  from  schools ; 
;  you  couid  not 
;hc  refined  and 

i£Ferent  outside 
have  been,  on 

richer  families, 
Sewing  Circle, 

ii  a  very  desira- 
social  position 

;irl  is  not  grow* 

t  I  have  heard 
ings.'     I   have 
very  often  pos- 
ts rich  and  aris* 


Horn*  Again. 


ifS 


tocratic  as  they,  and  a  little  more  so,  I  fear,  and 
far  less  happy  than  I  am  when  sitting  with 
mother  in  our  old  bare  kitchen,  reading  those 
grand,  helpful  thoughts  of  the  authors  whose 
works  you  have  wished  me  to  study.  Indeed,  I 
have  felt  myself  to  be  nearer  what  is  pure  and 
lovely  while  I  have  watched  the  morning  stars 
fade  away  in  the  blue  of  heaven,  as  I  drove  home 
the  cows  to  their  peaceful  grazing  grounds  on  a 
summer's  morning." 

"  It  is  no  use,  I  see,  for  me  to  reason  with 
you,  Mary.    Of  course  you  will  find  human  na-  • 
ture  defective  everywhere,  but  we  must  be  con- 
tent to  take  the  bitter  with  the  sweet." 

"  I  had  rather,  then,  take  the  sweet  alone  here 
at  home,  with  the  healthful  labors  of  the  farm, 
and  the  restful  companionship  of  books  that 
never  give  me  unkind  words.  Besides,  you  need 
not  hope  to  transfoan  your  little  country  girl  into 
a  brilliant  city  woman..  Homespun  must  be 
homespun." 
"  Ah,  Mary  1  I  look  for  the  homespun  to  be 


ji 


•t* 


■«: 


T* 


II 


'     li! 


1 1 


154 


Robbie  Meredith. 


smoothed  so  beautifully  one  day  that  we  shall 
think  it  the  finest  damask." 

"  It  will  be,  then,  when  I  get  on  the  angel's 
robe." 

"  No,  beiore  that  time ;  and  you  will  be  all  the 
sweeter  for  coming  to  that  rare  perfection  in 
your  own  way." 

"  Thank  you,  Robbie,  for  that  pretty  speech. 
You  will  leave  me  to  do  as  I  think  best,  now, 
won't  you,  my  brother  ? " 

"  Yes ;  I  believe  your  views  are  correct,  much 
as  I  should  like  to  have  you  and  mother  with  me 
this  year." 

And  so  the'  year  had  passed  away,  the  last  of 
four.  What  Robbie  was  to  do  after  this  they 
did  not  know.  He  was  not  quite  certain,  him- 
self. Several  plans  were  forming  in  his  brain,  he 
scarcely  knew  which  was  best  for  him  to  take. 
He  did  not  sufEer  himself  to  grow  anxious ;  the 
same  Hand  that  had  guided  him  hitheito^  he  be- 
lieved, would,  when  the  time  came,  point  out  the 
path  for  him  to  take. 


Ag 
await 
now 
ende( 

Sh 
after 
could 
wise] 
cheei 
the\ 

Ml 
the 
HeU 
quit( 

SI 
ily  a 
to  b 
tain: 
a  sti 
theJ 
plan 

T 


'««;■ 


■^f 


th. 

lay  that  we  shall 

5t  on  the  angel's 

yrou  will  be  all  the 
are  perfection  in 

at  pretty  speech, 
think  best,  now, 

are  correct,  much 
d  mother  with  me 

1  away,  the  last  of 
[o  after  this  they 
[uite  certain,  him- 
ng  in  his  brain,  he 
for  him  to  take. 
;row  anxious ;  the 
im  hitheitO;  he  be- 
ame,  point  out  the 


Home  Again. 


155 


Again  the  moment  of  his  return  was  eagerly 
awaited  by  his  mother  and  sisters,  for  Helen  was 
now  with  them;  her  teaching  days  probably 
ended  for  life. 

She  had  not  found  teaching  such  joyous  work, 
after  all.  The  little  mother,  in  her  inmost  heart, 
could  not  help  thinking  Mary  had  taken  the 
wiser  course,  as  she  contrasted  the  healthy, 
cheery  appearance  and  manner  of  the  one,  with 
the  weary,  almost  listless  way  of  the  otL  ^sr, 

Mary  was  busier  than  ever,  now,  refuu.ishing 
the  old  house  for  Robbie's  home-coming,  and 
Helen's  home-leaving,  for  the  wedding  was  to  be 
quite  a  grand  affair  for  them. 

She  had  spun,  and  woven,  and  knitted,  so  bus- 
ily and  to  such  a  purpose  that  she  vas  now  able 
to  brighten  up  th*;  parlor  with  new  carpet,  cur- 
tains  and  chairs.  Possibly  the  adorning  of  many 
a  stately  home  had  brought  less  pleasure  than 
the  few  dollars  she  had  expended  with  so  much 
planning  and  frugality. 

They  had  not  yet  seen  Heles «  affianced,  but 


n 


miiMt 


"SS^ 


,.„.,_  I.J      ,..i.,.^i,...f.  t.  >|i  Jj  11  j»ji.iBrwjlfLl)t».jljlf|lu,U-  1  '  tlJ|,y{yi 


T 


isfi 


Robbie  Meredith. 


of  his  wealth  they  could  have  little  doubt,  from 
the  rich  presents  that  found  their  way  to  the  old 
gray  farm-house. 

Mary  sometimes  suppressed  a  sigh,  as  she  saw 
how  eagerly  Helen  looked  forward  to  the  luxuri- 
ous home  awaiting  her.    It  was  not  that  she  en- 
vied her  sister's  good  fortune,  but  she  felt  that 
the  gulf,  at  first  almost  imperceptible,  that  had 
been  widening  between  them,  on  account  of  their 
di£Eerence  of  taste  and  pursuit,  would  not  be  les- 
sened in  the  coming  time.      Occasionally  the 
painful  impression  presented  itself  that  she  had 
erred  by  her  unfeminine  employment ;  but  she 
was  generally  comforted  by  the  reflectiot)  that  it 
was  only  to  benefit  others  that  she  had  done  so. 

Robbie  and  the  little  mother  had  been  made 
happier  by  her  labors,  while  Helen,  after  the  first 
few  months,  had  been  relieved  of  all  anxiety  or 
expense  on  their  behalf. 

The  summer  evening  came,  at  last,  when  the 
mother  sat  in  her  easy  chair  by  the  open  door, 
awaiting  her  boy.    The  hair,  so  smoothly  shading 


T 


Hoffie  Again. 


157 


doubt,  from 
ay  to  the  old 

\i,  as  she  saw 
to  the  luxuri- 
t  that  she  en- 
she  felt  that 
ble,  that  had 
:ount  of  their 
lid  not  be  les- 
asionally  the 
that  she  had 
lent ;  but  she 
lectiot)  that  it 
had  done  so. 
id  been  made 
after  the  first 
all  anxiety  or 

last,  when  the 
the  open  door, 
oothly  shading 


the  placid  brow,  was  more  silvery  than  on  that 
long  ago  day  when  Robbie  bought  the  pretty 
gray  dress,  he  thought  so  strangely  matched  his 
mother's  hair,  but  the  face  was  otherwise  un- 
changed. She  had  reached  another  of  those 
epochs  when  life,  for  years,  seems  to  stand  still, 
and  time,  for  awhile,  forgets  to  leave  the  impress 
of  his  unkind  hand  as  he  rushes  by. 

Helen  was  sitting  near  her  mother,  nervously 
toying  with  some  bit  of  work. 

Mary  aguin  was  busy  with  household  duties 
and  not,  as  on  that  9ther  evening  years  ago,  im- 
aginary ones  either. 

Mr.  Walters,  Helen's  affianced,  was  expected 
that  evening  with  Robbie,  and  in  a  few  days  she 
would  leave  the  old  home  forever. 

Mary  inly  wondered  as  she  passed  to  and  fro 
at  her  work,  if  Helen  noticed  the  wistful  look  in 
her  mother's  patient  eyes  as  they  followed  her 

continually. 

As  the  carriage  drove  to  the  gate,  and  the  two 
expected  ones  ran  up  the  grassy  walk  to  meet 


m 


I5« 


Robbie  Meredith. 


K' 


and  greet  their  loved  ones,  Mary  felt  a  sot-  rising 
in  her  throat.  She  had  lived  all  her  life  nearly 
for  others,  and  yet  she  was  not  first  in  any  hu- 
man being's  heart. 

Dick  had  months  ago  grown  tired  waiting  for 
her  to  return  the  love  he  had  so  long  hoped  to 
gain.  It  was  no  fault  of  hers  that  she  could  not 
give  him  her  heart.  Robbie  would  have  been 
glad,  too,  as  well  as  the  little  mother,  but  some- 
way it  could  not  be ;  and  it  was  with  a  feeling 
half  regretful,  half  glad  that  she  heard  he  was  en- 
gaged to  another. 

For  awhile  she  loitered  in  the  kitchen,  waiting 
until  the  greetings  were  ended  between  her 
mother  and  Robbie,  and  the  lovers ;  but  it  was 
not  for  long,  she  was  anxious  to  see  her  brother ; 
if  possible,  still  more  eager  to  see  the  new  brother 
Helen  was  bringing  to  them. 

Robbie  came  in  search*  of  her.  When  he  met 
her  at  the  door  she  felt  ashamed  to  think  that 
but  a  moment  before  she  had  almost  murmured 
because  her  share  of  love  was  so  meagre  in  com- 


parison « 

were  eno 

like  his; 

were  won 

Helen 

been  able 

would  n< 

first  look 

own,  con' 

Robbi( 

much  mc 

acter  of 

that  Mr. 

minded,  i 

respect  I 

When 

him  her 

their  hoi 

friends  j 

changed 

came  a  ; 

for  Hele 


Hom9  Again. 


159 


a  sob  rising 
!r  life  nearly 
It  in  any  hu- 

i  waiting  for 
ng  hoped  to 
ihe  could  not 
1  have  been 
er,  but  some- 
ith  a  feeling 
d  he  was  en- 

:hen,  waiting 
between  her 
I ;  but  it  was 
her  brother ; 
i  new  brother 

iVhen  he  met 
:o  think  that 
St  murmured 
eagre  in  com- 


parison with  what  others  possessed.  Surely  it 
were  enough  to  take  the  third  place  in  a  heart 
like  his;  if  only  the  girl  with  the  golden  hair 
were  worthy  of  such  love. 

Helen  introduced  Mr.  Walters.  Mary  had  not 
been  able  to  divest  herself  of  the  idea  that  she 
would  not  be  greatly  pleased  with  liim.  The 
first  look  into  those  eyes,  honest  and  true  as  her 
own,  convinced  her  that  3he  had  been  mistaken. 

Robbie,  it  must  be  confessed,  had  expatiated 
much  more  eloquently  upon  the  nobility  of  char- 
acter of  his  younger  than  his  eldest  sister,  so 
that  Mr.  Walters  was  prepared  to  see  a  strong- 
minded,  serious  looking  woman,  whom  he  might 
respect  but  could  never  love. 

When  the  rosy,  brown-eyed  little  maiden  gave 
him  her  hand,  and  welcomed  him  so  cordially  to 
their  home,  he  felt  at  once  that  they  should  be 
friends  for  life.  Her  frankness  and  simplicity 
changed  him,  and  the  anticipation  instantly  be- 
came a  pleasant  one  of  having  her  with  them ; 
for  Helen,  all  unknown  to  her  family,  had  stipu- 


i6o 


Robbie  Meredith. 


lated  that  her  mother  and  sister  should  share 
their  home  until  Robbie  could  provide  comforta- 
bly for  them. 

It  was  a  happy  company  that  evening  that  sur- 
rounded Mary's  well-spread  board. 

Robbie  had  changed  so  marvellously,  at  least 
so  his  proud  little  sister  thought,  as  she  admir- 
ingly watched  him  while  he  led  the  conversation 
from  one  subject  to  another.  It  seemed  some- 
times that  the  deep-toned,  splendid-looking  man 
could  not  be  their  Robbie  who  had  planted  the 
potatoes,  and  almost  fainted  under  the  August 
suns  in  the  sweltering  hay-fields. 

He.  looked  older  than  he  really  was,  but  no 
wonder;  care  had  early  pressed  heavily  upon 
him,  and  his  short  life  had  not  been  unfruitful  of 
events,  sad  and  depressing. 

While  the  others  partook  of  her  viands,  it  was 
treat  enough  to  Mary  to  listen  to  a  conversation 
that  seemed  to  open  up  to  her  mental  gaze  a 
world  quite  different  from  any  she  had  ever 
known  outside  of  books.     As  she  listened  to  the 


hould  share 
le  cotnforta- 

ing  that  sur- 

isly,  at  least 
3  she  admir- 
conversation 
emed  some- 
booking  man 
planted  the 
the  August 

was,  but  no 
leavily  upon 
unfruitful  of 

lands,  it  was 
conversation 
lental  gaze  a 
le  had  ever 
stened  to  the 


Home  Again. 


i6i 


pleasant  flow  of  thought  from  the  two  clever, 
highly  cultured  men  at  her  side,  she  imagined 
that  the  coming  years  would  not  be,  after  all,  so 
very  dreary  if  she  could  but  occupy  ever  so  hum- 
ble a  place  in  their  esteem. 

The  twilight  hour  was  still  as  long,  and  the 
sunset  sky  as  golden,  as  on  that  other  evening 
when  Robbie  came  home  for  the  first  time  from 
college.  He  soon  followed  Mary  to  the  pasture 
lots  whence  she  was  driving  home  the  cows. 
Was  she  thinking  of  that  evening  three  years 
ago  when  Dick  was  with  them,  and  was  there  re- 
gret mingled  with  the  remembrance  ? 

Robbie  wondered  if  it  were  so  as  he  glanced 
down  at  the  brave,  silent  girl  at  his  side.  The 
admiration  and  love  she  gave  to  him,  returned 
with  unstinted  measure,  but  he  hoped  that  she, 
the  best  and  most  unselfish  of  the  three,  might 
one  day  be  as  Helen  was  to-night ;  as  he  was 
himself  for  was  not  the  picture  of  a  beautiful 
face,  crowned  with  golden  hair,  nestling  some- 
where near  his  heart  ?    The  boyish  romance  had 


t 


1 6a 


Robbie  Meredith. 


i 


not  wholly  given  place  to  love  of  knowledge. 

He  did  not  ask  her  if  there  were  regrets  mi: 
gle  J  with  that  finvl,  memory,  but  he  told  her  of 
his  own  expected   happiness.     He  fancied  he 
could  see  a  wistful  look  in  the  rare  brown  eyes 
that  made  them  more  beautiful  than  ever. 


^y^, 


timh 


ledge. 
:gret3  rairt- 
:old  her  of 
ancied  he 
rown  eyes 
rcr. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


DESIRE  TO  STUDY. 


ELEN  was  married  that  same  week. 
Dick  reached  home  in  time  to  be  at  the 
wedding. 

Perhaps  there  was  still  a  lingering  tenderness 
for  his  old  fancy ;  at  least,  Robbie  feared  there 
was,  and  it  seemed  as  if  Dick,  too,  shared  his 
fears,  for  he  appeared  rather  to  avoid  than  seek 
Mary's  society. 

Mrs.  Meredith  watched  her  daughter's  de- 
parture with  more  of  pain  than  exultation  at  the 

brilliant  match  she  had  made.    She  felt  now  that 

(168) 


IH 


RobbU  Meredith. 


tlie  home-circle  was  broken,  and  perhaps,  before 
long,  her  tender  care  would  be  no  longer  needed. 
She  did  not  yield  to  the  almost  tearful  entrea- 
ties of  her  daughter,  nor  the  added  pleadings  of 
her  new  son  that  she  and  Mary  should  live  with 
them,  while  Mary  was  equally  firm  in  refusing. 
So  that  it  was  not  an  unmixed  joy  to  Helen,  this 
long  anticipated  bridal  day. 

Again  the  little  household  settled  back  in  its 
everyday  routine  as  of  yore.  Robbie  busied  him- 
.self  about  the  farm,  not  Micawber  like,  waiting 
for  something  to  turn  up,  but  earnestly  perform- 
ing whatever  he  could  find  to  do  either  for  him- 
self or  others. 

The  little  mother  fondly  believed  that  she 
would  have  her  boy  with  her  now  until  death 
should  dissolve  their  union.  All  unconscious 
was  she  that  her  proud  young  eaglet  was  already 
anxious  to  plume  his  flight  from  the  home  nest 
on  a  longer  voyage  of  discovery  than  he  had  ever 
before  essayed. 

Mary  was  first  apprized  of  his  ambitious  plans. 


)S,  before 
r  needed. 
Ill  entrea- 
adings  of 
live  with 
refusing, 
elen,  this 

tack  in  its 
asied  him- 
e,  waiting 
(f  perform- 
r  for  him- 

that  she 
ntil  death 
nconscious 
ras  already 
home  nest 
le  had  ever 

ious  plans. 


.^lAMaMMiaHMMMiHIIIi 


Desire  to  Study. 


165 


Dismay,  rather  than  delight  was  written  on  her 
face  when  Robbie  revealed  to  her  the  longing 
with  which  he  was  possessed. 

"  But  do  you  not  know  enough  now,  Robbie, 
to  get  through  life  comfortably  ? "  she  said  in  an- 
swer to  his  question  if  she  could  be  willing  for 
him  to  take  a  higher  course  of  study  at  some  of 
the  renowned  old  world  universities. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Mary,  that  I  am  only  begin- 
ning to  learn.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  painful  the 
thought  is  that  I  must  stop  ngw,  with  all  these 
mysteries  unexplored." 

"  Didn't  mother  tell  you  years  ago  that  may  be 
you  could  go  on  studying  in  heaven  ? " 

"  Yes,  but  if  all  were  satisfied  to  wait  for  that 
where  would  the  world  be  now  ?  I  believe  it  to 
be  as  much  my  duty  to  go  on  with  my  studies  as 
il  is  for  Dick  to  begin  his  work  as  a  minister.  I 
can  glorify  my  Father  in  heaven  more  in  that 
way  than  in  any  other,  I  firmly  believe." 

"But,  Robbie,  will  your  little  golden-haired 
girl  be  willing  to  wait  ? " 


166 


Robbie  Meredith. 


I ' 


"  She  is  willing,  Mary." 

"  And  so  shrill  I,  my  brother,  she  shall  not  be 
more  generous  than  I." 

"  Well  done,  my  true,  brave  girl,  I  hope  you 
will  someday  get  your  thousand  fold  reward." 

"  And  when  shall  you  go  ?"  Practical  and  un- 
demonstrative as  ever,  Mary  abruptly  terminated 
his  heartfelt  expressions. 

"  That  is  the  question  puzzling  me.  I  have 
my  fellowship,  with  that  I  can  manage  to  pay  my 
way  easily  enougl^  but  what  troubles  me  is  leav- 
ing you  to  work  alone.  It  seems  so  selfish,  I  al- 
most loathe  myself  when  I  think  how  I  have  been 
depriving  you  of  getting  an  education,  and  now 
to  leave  you  for  two  or  three  years  longer,  shut 
up  here  where  you  can  have  no  pleasure  nor 
learn  anything." 

"  Don't  trouble  about  me,  Robbie.  My  case  is 
not  nearly  so  dark  as  you  paint  it.  I  am  happy 
here,  and  do  not  look  upon  my  life  as  wasted,  so 
I  am  helping  you  ever  so  little,  and  making 
mother  comfortable;  beside.  I  can  study  every 


^y  case  is 
am  happy 
wasted,  so 
d  making 
udy  every 


Dtsiij  to  SiM(fy. 


!«/ 


day  as  much  as  I  wish,  and  get  through  in  the 
course  of  a  year  alniost  ac-es  of  reading.  Surely 
my  mind  won't  quite  rust  out  when  used  to  that 
extent ;  and  more  than  that,  it  is  certainly  far 
wiser  for  you  to  be  thoroughly  educated  than  for 
both  of  us  to  get  just  a  smattering,  and  then  I 
am  content  to  wait  for  my  knowledge  until  I  get 
to  a  world  where  our  minds  will  develop  faster 
than  on  earth." 

"You  have  a  truly  regal  way  of  conferring 
your  favors,  Mary,"  Robbie  said,  soberly.  "  You 
not  only  give  up  your  life  to  others,  but  you  try 
to  do  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  them  think  it 
is  nothing  after  all  that  you  are  sacrificing  to 
make  them  happy." 

"And  why  should  it  be?"  she  asked,  while 
there  was  just  a  little  quiver  of  the  lip  that  re- 
vealed to  Robbie  it  was  not  the  light  thing  she 
would  fain  have  him  think,  this  long  separation, 
and  the  loneliness  only  too  sure  to  be  her  com- 
ing lot  for  the  next  few  years. 
"  Will  you  ask  mother  for  me  ?"  Robbie  asked. 


' 


158 


Robbie  Meredith. 


She  paused  a  moment,  and  then  bravely  swal- 
lowing down  a  rising  sob,  she  said  quite  calmly : 

"  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you,  Robbie.  I  think 
I  can  get  her  to  consent." 

They  had  been  walking  home  from  a  small 
party  in  the  village,  conversing  as  they  came, 
wl^e.i  Robbie,  just  before  they,  reached  the  gate, 
broached  this  subject  which  he  had  hitherto 
found  too  uncomfortable  to  speak  about;  they 
had  seemed  so  happy  to  have  him  with  them, 
their  protector  and  head  once  more. 

On  their  long  moonlight  walk  through  the 
quiet  lanes  that  evening,  he  had  been  answering 
Mary's  questions  about  his  own  sweet  story  of 
love,  and  waiting  while  she  had  been  telling  him 
how  Helen  met  her  lover  months  ago,  up  among 
the  lakes,  where  she  had  been  teaching,  and 
whither  he  had  come  on  a  fishing  excursion,  and 
lodged  in  the  same  quiet  farm-house  where  she 
was  boarding.  It  was  a  pretty  story,  full  of  love 
and  romance  to  the  unsophisticated  girl  who  was 
telling  it  to  her  brother  as  they  wandered  along 


in  the  mi: 

tiful  it  see 

riences  of 

Robbie 

Ettie  Sun 

of  one  of 

duced  to  1 

covered  t 

person. 

quainted, 

til  one  da 

act  she  ' 

store,  anc 

her  with 

"And 

you  were 

"No, 
much  to 
love,  but 
said,  gen 
all  these 
not  help 


Desire  to  Studv. 


169 


ely  swal- 
calmly : 
I  think 

a  small 
;y  came, 
the  gate, 

hitherto 
ut;  they 
th  them, 

}ugh  the 
nswering 
story  of 
lling  him 
ip  among 
ing,  and 
sion,  and 
'here  she 
1  of  love 
who  was 
ed  along 


in  the  misty  moonlight ;  rarely  sweet  and  beau- 
tiful it  seemed  to  her  from  her  own  slender  expe- 
riences of  life's  crowning  gift. 

Robbie  told  her.  how  lie  had  accidentally  met 
Ettie  Sundon  at  the  literary  reunion  at  the  house 
of  one  of  their  professors,  and  had  been  intro- 
duced to  her,  and  with  what  pleasure  he  had  dis- 
covered that  she  was  as  charming  in  mind  as 
person.  How,  after  once  they  had  become  ac- 
quainted, an  intimacy  gradually  was  formed,  un- 
til one  day  he  had  dared  to  tell  her  of  the  kindly 
act  she  had  performed  years  ago  in  Phalen's 
store,  and  which  had  caused  him  to  remember 
her  with  gratitude  ever  afterward. 

"  And  you  were  not  ashamed  to  tell  how  poor 
you  were ! "   Mary  said,  half  pityingly. ' 

"No,  when  I  told  her  that  it  seemed  too 
much  to  dream,  even,  that  I  could  ever  win  her 
love,  but  she  must  have  been  pleased,  for  she 
said,  gently :  '  And  so  you  have  remembered  me 
all  these  years  for  that  simple  little  act.'  I  could 
not  help  the  words  forcing  their  way  from  my 


1  I 


170 


Robbie  Meredith. 


heart  then  as  I  said :  Yes,  and  shall  remember 
it  always,  as  the  one  brightest  memory  I  ever 
dare  hope  to  have." 

"What  did  she  say  then?"  Mary  asked,  after 
a  long  pause. 

"Ah!  little  sister,  I  have  told  you  enough 
now.  Someday  I  hope  a  nobler  man  than  has 
now  my  Ettie's  love  may  tell  you  the  same  story 
I  told  her." 

Mary  did  not  reply,  but  the  world  just  then 
did  not  seem  the  same  as  when,  a  few  moments 
after,  Robbie  told  her  of  his  desires  to  go  from 
them  again  for  years. 


*tWM^ 


Ith: 

bie 

by  slowly  < 

added,  and 

The  mc 

and  the  p 

their  old-1 

that  year; 

place  mor 

Mary,  t 

sive  girl, 

manner  t 


remember 
ory  I  ever 


}u  enough 
I  than  has 
jarae  story 

just  then 
N  moments 
to  go  from 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

RETURN. 

JtHER  days  and  years  of  waiting  for  Rob- 
bie's return  passed.  The  two  years  went 
^rliTwly  enough;  and  an  additional  two  were 
added,  and  still  they  had  not  seen  him. 

The  mother's  hair  was  growing  more  snowy, 
and  the  patient  eyes  were  losing  something  of 
their  old-time  lustre,  while  Time,  remembering 
that  years  were  swiftly  multiplying,  began  to 
place  more  carefully  the  impress  of  his  hand. 

Mary,  too,  had  changed,  from,  a  pretty  impul- 
sive girl,  to  a  charming  woman  with  a  dignity  of 
manner  that  might  have  graced  a  palace.    The 


I 

i'n  > 


172 


Robbie  Meredith. 


change  could  only  have  come  through  the  fash- 
ioning impress  of  a  beautiful  soul.  Her  mother 
sometimes  wondered  at  the  quiet,  self-contained 
grice  that  marked  her  daughter's  intercourse 
with  both  rich  and  poor. 

Mr.  Walters  thought  that  the  finishing  touches 
of  the  most  polished  masters  could  not  have 
added  to  the  rare  dignity  with  which  she  moved 
among  them,  day  by  day,  always  the  same,  gentle, 
self-forgetful  and  pure. 

Those  who  knew  her  best  believed  that  only 
the  love  of  Christ,  and  following  the  example  he 
has  set  for  us  all,  could  have  made  so  perfect  a 
character. 

Robbie  was  sometimea  astonished  at  the  rare 
thoughts  that  seemed  unconsciously  expressed  in 
her  letters,  and  exerted  himself  all  the  more,  so 
that  he  might  one  day  introduce  her  into  those 
circles  where  she  could  not  only  receive  benefit, 
but  would  also  confer  it. 

The  shadow  of  their  early  poverty  had  quite 
been  banished  from  their  home.    Robbie's  checks. 


after  he  hai 
had  gone  in 
in  advance 
found  her  1 
marriage,  ai 
much  more 
to  accept. 

The  mol 

sional  visit 

season  of  1 

to  Mary. 

leges    thu 

thought  ai 

visit;  whl 

Robbie,  a] 

mer  at  th( 

gone  quit 

And  sc 

inharmor 

gan  to  m 

Robbii 

note,  coi 


•i  -; 


ilk*—.. 


Return. 


173 


jh  the  fash- 

Her  mother 

if-contained 

intercourse 

ling  touches 

i  not   have 

she  moved 

ame,  gentle, 

i  that  only 
example  he 
so  perfect  a 

at  the  rare 
jxpressed  in 
:he  more,  so 

into  those 
eive  benefit, 

y  had  quite 
bie's  checks. 


after  he  had  graduated  from  Jena,  whether  he 
bad  gone  in  search  of  further  culture,  were  much 
in  advance  of  their  utmost  need,  v;hile  Helen 
found  her  heart  grown  no  harder  by  her  nch 
marriage,  and  was  always  glad  to  make  presents, 
much  more  generous  than  her  sister  was  wilUng 

to  accept. 

The  mother  and  daughter  also  made  an  occa- 
sional  visit  to  Helen's  luxurious  home,  always  a 
season  of  real  enjoyment  to  them  all,  especially 
to  Mary.    The  persons  she  met  and  the  privi- 
leges   thus    obtained    served    her  as  food    for 
thought  and  instruction  until  a  repetition  of  the 
visit;  while  Helen,  with  her  husband  and  baby 
Robbie,  always  spent  a  few  brief  weeks  of  sum- 
n.er  at  the  farm-house,  which  had  recently  under- 
gone  quite  extensive  repairs. 

And  so  the  years  had  drifted  past,  quietly,  not 
inharmoniously.  and  then  the  changes  again  be- 
gan to  multiply. 

Robbie  was  coming  home ;  already  a  tmted 
note,  containing  the  wedding  invitation,  which 


.Miim^ 


•i  1 


;i" 


11!  I 


S4  i 


174 


Robbie  Meredith. 


had  been  gazed  at,  time  and  again,  with  varying 
emotions,  lay  in  Mary's  writing  desk.  Would 
the  golden-haired  Nettie  absorb  all  the  love  in 
Robbie's  heart,  or  was  that  time  past  forever, 
when  she  should  be  to  her  brother  what  she  had 
been  for  years.  A  fear  troubled  her  sometimes 
lest  it  might  be  so,  but  then  she  had  her  mother 
still ;  the  best,  truest  mother  in  all  the  world, 
she  believed. 

And  more  than  love  of  friend  and  brother,  she 
had  the  love  of  Christ,  and  in  temptation  and 
trial  she  had  found  in  him  a  friend  able  to  help, 
and  strong  to  deliver. 

Robbie  was  expected  in  a  few  days.  Again 
the  old  house  was  in  exquisite  order  for  his 
home-coming;  while  Helen  and  her  husband 
were  there  to  meet  him. 

It  came  at  last,  the  day  when  he  expected  to 
be  with  them.  It  was  not  unlike  that  day  so 
many  years  ago  which  was  Robbie's  last  in  the 
old  farm-houp'';  before  he  started  out  in  the 
great  world  in  search  of  an  education.    There 


Return. 


175 


irith  varying 
sk.  Would 
the  love  in 
)ast  forever, 
rhat  she  had 
r  sometimes 
1  her  mother 
[I  the  world, 

brother,  she 
iptation  and 
able  to  help, 

lays.  Again 
rder  for  his 
[ler   husband 

5  expected  to 

that  day  so 

s  last  in  the 

out  in  the 

ition.    There 


was  a  steady  down-dropping  from  the  leaden 
skies,  with  occasional  gusts  of  wind  that  made 
the  litUe  mother  draw  closer  to  the  fire  Mary 
had  kindled  in  the  parlor,  hoping  thereby  to 
drive  away  the  shadow  she  saw  stealing  over  the 

patient  face. 

So  eager  were  they  to  see  Robbie  they  could 
not  think  of  him  being  detained  by  a  storm  when 
so  near  them.  A  twenty-mile  drive  through  such 
a  storm  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  Helen  had  said 
over  and  over  again,  but  still  his  mother  fully  ex- 
pected him  that  night,  notwithstanding  the  oft 
expressed  doubt  to  the  contrary. 

Mary  did  not  hazard  an  opinion,  but  her 
mother  was  comforted  by  seeing  all  the  prepara- 
tions being  made,  as  if  he  were  certainly  coming, 
but  the  evening  came  and  the  twilight  faded 
quite  away  from  the  gray  heavens,  while  the 
wing  of  night  was  folding  down  over  field  and 
hill,  but  still  no  sound  of  glad  voice  or  step  was 
heard  coming  up  the  grassy  walk. 

Robbie  had  written  that  it  was  possible  he 


176 


Robbie  Meredith. 


might  bring  a  college  friend  with  him ;  thr.t  was 
all  he  said,  but  Mary  had  got  her  own  room  in 
readiness  for  Robbie  in  case  it  should  be  needed. 
All  the  household  tasks  were  finished  for  the 
evening,  and  Mary's  eyes  were  beginning  to 
ache  with  the  long-continued  watching.  Helen 
proposed  after  the  lamp  had  been  lighted  that 
they  should  have  tea. 

"  May  be  if  we  sit  down  it  may  bring  him,"  she 
said.  Mary  complied,  and  soon  the  summons  to 
tea  came,  and  with  it  came  a  ringing  voice  at  the 
door.  Mary  was  the  first  to  open  it.  Through 
the  misty  air  she  saw  two  shadows,  and  a  mo- 
ment after  was  enfolded  by  two  damp  arms  and  a 
bearded  mouth  was  pressed  close  to  her  own. 

"  Oh,  Robbie  I  I  am  so  glad  I "  was  all  she 
said,  but  Robbie  was  satisfied. 

In  a  second  or  two  the  others  were  giving  him 
his  welcome  home,  his  mother's  a  tearful  one, 
but  none  the  less  glad. 

The  wet  wrappings  were  soon  removed  from 
Robbie  anr.  liis  fiiend,  who  was  duly  introduced 
after  the  t.'ccitement  had  somewhat  subsided. 


"  Mr.  Sti 

sure,"  Mrs. 

playful  alli 

of  delight  i 

"I  can 

was  the  h 

anxiety  to 

Soon  tt 

Mary  coul 

so  chang< 

bearded  1; 

expected  1 

a  change 

him  the 

Sundon 

alliance  v 

a  brother 

anywhere 

WastI 

Robbie  1 

which  vv; 

own,  aln 


iiluim 


'.;^5;- 


1 ;  thr.t  was 
n  room  in 
be  needed. 
lied  for  the 
ginning  to 
ig.  Helen 
ighted  that 

g  him,"  she 
lummons  to 
voice  at  the 
,  Through 
and  a  mo- 
arms  and  a 
ler  own. 
was  all  she 

J  giving  him 
tearful  one, 

moved  from 
jr  introduced 
ibsided. 


Return. 


177 


"  Mr.  Stuart  will  excuse  our  eager  joy,  I  am 
sure,"  Mrs.  Meredith  said,  in  answer  to  Robbie's 
playful' allusion  to  their  unrestrained  expressions 
of  delight  at  seeing  him  once  more. 

"  I  can  only  envy  my  friend  his  happiness," 
was  the  hearty  reply.  "  I  do  not  wonder  at  his 
anxiety  to  get  home." 

Soon  they  were  seated  around  the  tea-table. 
Mary  could  scarcely  believe  that  her  brother  had 
so  changed  in  those  few  years.      Brown  and 
bearded  he  certainly  was,  more  so  than  she  had 
expected  to  see  him.  but  her  keen  eyes  detected 
a  change  still  more  marked.    As  she  watched 
him  the  thought  occurred  that  after  all  Ettie 
Sundon   might  be  proud  of  her  lover,  and  the 
alliance  would  not,  in  reality,  be  unequal.     Such 
a  brother  as  hers  was.  might  claim  a  wife  almost 

anywhere. 

Was  the  sister's  pride  unreasonable,  after  what 
Robbie  had  accomplished,  and  the  noble  future 
which  was  opening  out  before  him,  through  his 
own.  almost  unaided  exertions,  was  it  surprising. 


oiS*"*"™***"^" 


ti: 


178 


Robbie  Meredith. 


with  her  limited  knowledge  of  the  world  that  she 
should  think  he  had  few  peers  ? 

The  evening  sped  quickly  away,  while  but 
slightly  did  they  heed,  under  their  sheltering 
roof  that  night,  the  rising  storm  and  increased 
fury  of  the  gale. 

Mr,  Walters  was  so  anxious  to  hear  from  his 
old  professors  at  Jena,  where  he  had  passed  many 
years  of  college  life,  that  Robbie  found  little  time 
for  further  conversation,  but  it  was  enough  for 
Mary  and  her  mother  to  listen  to  the  tones  of  his 
voice,  no  matter  what  the  topic. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Stuart  was  amused  at  thp  eager 
look  upon  the  bright  young  face,  but  before  the 
evening  was  ended  he  felt  repaid  for  coming. 
He  was  to  be  Robbie's  groomsman,  and  it  was 
for  that  he  was  delayed  on  his  way  home,  if  home 
that  might  be  called  where  only  a  house  and  ser- 
vants awaited  him. 


Strang 


ence  v 
tral  ti 
for  se( 
Robbi 
detom 


d  that  she 

while  but 

sheltering 

increased 


T 


r  from  his 
issed  many 
little  time 
siiough  for 
ones  of  his 

th^  eager 
before  the 
jr  coming, 
and  it  was 
DC,  if  home 
ise  and  ser- 


CHAPTER   XV. 

UNIONS. 

Fancy  is  Uving  now  in  the  old  farm-house, 
where  once  the  Merediths  struggled  so 
courageously  with  what  seemed  to  them  an  un- 

friendly  fate. 

Robbie  spent  a  few  days  with  his  mother  be- 
fore his  marriage.  Very  happy  days  to  them  all ; 
strangely  happy  days  to  Mary.  A  new  experi- 
ence  was  beginning  to  illumine  her  hitherto  neu- 
tral tinted  life.  It  might  not  have  been  merely 
for  securing  his  services  on  his  wedding  day  that 
Robbie  had  urged  Mr.  Stuart  to  make  the  wide 

detour  to  the  out-of-the-way  farm-house,  among 

(179) 


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I 


I  80 


Robbie  Meredith. 


T 


his  native  hills.  Helen  shrewdly  thought  that 
Robbie  had  been  planning  a  match  between  Mr. 
Stuart  and  Mary,  one  that  she  felt  assured  would 
give  him  the  utmost  satisfaction. 

Mary  was  very  busy  those  few  days,  making 
her  guests  comfortable,  at  the  same  time  attend- 
ing to  the  farm  and  household  duties  as  of  yore  ; 
but,  probably,  this  only  proved  a  stronger  attrac- 
tion in  the  eyes  of  the  observing,  quiet  man, 
whose  experience,  hitherto,  of  the  female  sex  had 
not  embraced  one  capable  of  performing  her  du- 
ties in  kitchen  and  parlor  equally,  with  so  much 
grace  and  sweetness,  at  least  in  his  half-blinded 
eyes. 

That  first  evening,  when  Mary  met  Robbie  in 
the  half-lighted  door-way,  had  possibly  paved  the 
way  better  than  any  other  circumstance  could 
have  done  to  the  easy  entrance  •  she  uncon- 
sciously made  in  his  heart. 

He  had  been  alone  since  childhood,  with  no 
one  to  give  him  the  unselfish  love  he  saw  be- 
stowed on   his  friend,  while  the  loneliness  that 


had  oft( 

now  to 

It  Wi 

Meredi 

Robbi« 

with  I 

It  S( 

cerem< 

seen  b 

in  all 

altar  £ 

her,  n 

the  p 

girl. 

Al 
bride] 
tear-d 
of  th( 
unde 
brotl 
SV. 
Robl 


,1.'  Lv'J  ,'  -'.:'-?i-i!l!'i»ti").i-/?1^r' 


Light  that 
ween  Mr. 
red  would 

s,  making 
ne  attend- 
of  yore ; 
jer  attrac- 
uiet  man, 
le  sex  had 
ig  her  du- 
i  so  much 
ilf-blinded 

Robbie  in 
paved  the 
nee  could 
le  uncon- 

i,  with  no 
le  saw  be- 
iness  that 


Unions. 

had  often  embittered  his  solitary  moments  seemed 
now  to  be  greatly  intensified. 

It  was  a  joyous  party  that  set  out  from  Mrs. 

Meredith's  on  the  gay  October  morning  when 

Robbie  went  to  claim  his  bride.     Mrs.  Meredith 

with  Nancy  staid  at  home  while  the  others  went. 

It  seemed  like  a  dream  to  Mary,  that  marriage 

ceremony  in  the  beautiful  church.     She  had  not 

seen  her  future  sister  until  that  morning,  when, 

in  all  her  bridal  beauty,  she  stood  before  the 

altar  at  Robbie's  side,  her  pretty  brides-maids  with 

her,  not  one  of  whom  seemed  half  so  beautiful  in 

the  partly  dazzled  eyes  of  the  unsophisticated 

girl. 

A  few  of  the  guests,  who  knew  her  to  be  the 
bridegroom's  sister,  wondered,  when  they  saw 
tear-drops  quivering  on  the  long-fringed  lashes 
of  those  brave,  brown  eyes ;  the  one  or  two  who 
understood  her  best  knew  it  was  gladness  at  her 
brother's  joy  that  caused  them. 

She  only  had  time  for  a  few  formal  words  with 
Robbie's  wife  after  the  wedding  breakfast,  before 


; 


MTKni'''<»tl'li 


183 


Robbie  Meredith. 


they  left  on  their  bridal  tour;  but  she  felt  tl.at 
this  widening  of  their  family  circle  would  only 
make  them  the  richer  in  their  loved  ones,  as  did 
Helen's  marriage. 

Mr.  Stuart  looked  his  best  as  groomsman ;  uti- 
romantic  to  an  unusual  degree  though  she  was, 
yet  Mary  found  herself  wondering  what  the  bride 
would  be  like  whom  he  would  one  day  stand  be- 
side at  the  altar,  and  wondering  also  if  he  would 
ever  find  a  woman  worthy  of  him. 

Robbie  had  chosen  his  life-work,  or  what  would 
probably  be  such.  A  mathematical  professor- 
ship had  been  offered  him  at  Jena,  which  he  had 
accepted,  hoping  one  day  to  be  able  to  wield  an 
influence  for  good  in  that  far-famed  seat  of  spec- 
ulative philosophy  and  rationalism. 

Free  from  self-assertion  to  an  unusu  degree, 
and  with  sufficient  modesty  to  disarm  unkind 
criticism,  he  was  yet  conscious  of  being  in  pos- 
session of  talents  of  no  mean  order,  which  he  had 
the  noble  ambition  of  using,  not  for  his  own  ag- 
grandizement, but  for  the  Master  whom  he  still 


'  rv'tttr-'v  •'  ■■---"--■--■  ■'-■—»' 


Unions. 


183 


tried  to  serve  as  faithfully  and  lovingly  as  when 
he  and  Dick  used  to  meet  in  the  old  red  school- 
house  those  long  years  ago. 

Mary  and  her  mother  never  shared  Robbie's 
home  with  him.  Mrs.  Meredith  would  willingly 
have  followed  her  son  to  Germany,  but  Mary  was 
unwilling  to  be  separated  from  her  mother. 

With  her  usual  self-forgetf ulness  she  would  not 
consent  to  lay  the  additional  burden  of  their  sup- 
port upon  Robbie,  just  when  he  was  beginning 
the  world  for  himself.  Beside,  she  believed  both 
he  and  his  wife  would  be  happier  commencing 
their  wedded  life  alone. 

« By  and  by,  when  you  are  richer,  and  may 
need  us  more,"  she  said  in  reply  to  his  entreat- 

ies,  "  we  may  go." 

"  But  I  am  afraid,  if  I  do  not  take  you  now,  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  get  you  by  and  by.  Some 
one  else  will  have  a  better  claim  than  I  before 

long." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  shall  marry  ?" 

"  I  do,  little  sister." 


1R 

.*  '; 

I 
I 


t; 


I 


4 
i 


! 


r 


11  i 

Ij    t 

J ! 
1 ' 

!      1 

li 


184 


Robbie  Meredith. 


"  Hov  ridiculous,  when  I  have  never  had  a 
lover  in  my  life  but  Dick,  and  he  was  married 
long  ago.  I  do  not  think  you  need  fear  such  a 
catastrophe." 

"  You  will  not  be  able  to  make  that  boast  long, 
Mary.  Stuart  will  have  you  secured  long  before 
I  shall  be  fully  settled  in  my  new  home,  if  he 
can  have  his  way." 

He  looked  down  at  the  little  woman  by  his 
side,  and  his  keen  eyes  did  not  fail  to  see  the 
sudden  dropping  of  the  long  lashes  on  the 
brightly  coloring  cheeks. 

"Ah,  little  sister,  you  have  been  snared  at 
last,"  he  gladly  thought. 

It  had  for  a  long  time  been  a  cherished  wish 
of  Robbie's  that  his  friend  and  school-mate 
should  one  day  claim  a  brother's  relationship 
with  him. 

He  was  at  home  now,  with  his  bride,  spending 
a  few  week.o  with  his  mother  ere  he  again  should 
leaVe  then.j  for  another  long  period  of  separation. 

His  wife,  already,  was  beginning  to  seem  like 


a  child  t< 
of  heart 
give  Rob 
still  a  ma 
she  gene 
those  arc 
A  fev 
Mary,  th 
the  fire, 
farmer  ) 
in,  they 
"  It  n 
Robbie, 
visitor. 
Mrs. 
stitches 
when  I 
caused 
Stuart' 
It  w 
Mary 
little 


il 


Unions. 


185 


ver  had  a 
IS  married 
'ear  such  a 

loast  long, 
3ng  before 
ome,  if  he 

lan  by  his 
to  see  the 
:s  on   the 

snared  at 

shed  wish 
;hool-mate 
lationship 

spending 
lin  should 
eparation. 
seem  like 


a  child  to  Mrs.  Meredith.     The  same  kindness 
of  heart  that  had  prompted  her  when  a  child  to 
give  Robbie  the  candies  in  Phalen's  store  was 
still  a  marked  feature  in  her  character,  so  that 
she  generally  found  her  way  to  the  hearts  of 

those  around  her. 

A  few  evenings  after  his  conversation  with 
Mary,  they  were  surprised,  while  sitting  around 
the  fire,  to  hear  a  knock  at  the  front  door;  when 
farmer  Williams  or  any  of  their  neighbors  came 
in.  they  did  not  usually  enter  by  that  door. 

"It  must  be  our  minister  coming  to  see  you, 
Robbie."  Mary  said  as  she  arose  to  admit  their 

visitor. 

Mrs.  Meredith  was  placidly  counting  the 
stitches  on  a  sock  she  was  knitting  for  Robbie, 
when  an  exclamation  of  surprise  from  Mary 
caused  her  to  look  up.  when  she  heard  Mr. 
Stuart's  voice  at  the  door. 

It  was  her  turn  then  to  be  surprised,  but  when 
Mary  had  ushered  him  into  the  room,  and  the 
little  mother  saw  the  look  of  pleasure  in  her 


i86 


Robbie  Meredith. 


daughter's  eyes,  the  expression  of  mysticism 
faded  from  her  face,  as  the  possible  reason  for  his 
coming  dawned  upon  her. 

As  she  sat  busily  knitting  in  her  quiet  corner 
that  evening,  listening  to  the  pleasant  flow  of 
conversation,  and  watching  the  happy  faces  of 
her  children,  her  thoughts  wandered  back  to  those 
days  when  poverty  and  hunger  were  their  fre- 
quent guests,  and  when  the  promise  of  such  a  fu- 
ture would  have  appeared,  both  to  herself  and 
children,  almost  like  heaven  itself. 

Mr.  Stuart  only  staid  one  day  with  them,  but 
before  he  left,  Robbie's  prophecy  had  come  true; 
his  brave  little  sister  was  the  betrothed  wife  of 
his  friend.  Mr.  Stuart  plead  hard,  and  his  suit 
was  eloquently  aided  by  Robbie  and  his  wife, 
that  their  marriage  should  take  place  before 
Robbie  left  home. 

And  so  it  was  settled,  leaving  Mary  scarcely  a 
month's  betrothal  before  she  became  a  wife.  But 
they  were  not  troubled  with  fears,  lest  when  they 
became  better  acquainted,  their  esteem  should  be 
lessened. 


Nancy 
readiness : 
divided  fs 
for  a  few 
times  the 
hood. 

The  lit 

growing 

proaches 

looks  lot 

drawing 

Farmt 

now,  pro 

Dick.    ] 

this.    C 

yet  bee 

Dick  is 

uncomr 

tionally 

Phal( 

becomi 

yet,  an 


''ftrifflTOFT 


■HaMMfH 


MHH 


mysticism 
ason  for  his 

{uiet  corner 
ant  flow  of 
jy  faces  of 
ick  to  tliose 
:  their  fre- 
i  such  a  f  u- 
terself  and 

them,  but 
come  true ; 
led  wife  of 
id  his  suit 
1  his  wife, 
ice  before 

scarcely  a 
wife.  But 
when  they 
should  be 


Unions. 


187 


Nancy  keeps  the  old  farm-house  always  in 
readiness  for  the  home-coming  of  the  now  widely 
divided  family.  Occasionally  they  meet  thIVe 
for  a  few  days  of  happy  intercourse;  at  such 
times  they  frequently  recall  the  days  of  child- 
hood. 

The  little  mother  meets  with  them,  every  year 
growing  more  gentle  and  saintly,  as  she  ap- 
proaches the  better  home  towards  which  she  now 
looks  longingly,  as  she  sees  her  work  on  earth 

drawing  to  an  end. 

Farmer  Williams  is  an  old,  white-haired  man 
now,  proud  of  the  boys,  as  he  calls  Robbie  and 
Dick.    He  lives  mire  for  the  better  world  than 
this.    Coming  late  into  Christ's  school,  he  has 
yet  been  a  rapid  learner  and  loving  disciple. 
Dick  is  a  faithful  and  successful  minister;  not 
uncommonly  brilliant,  but,  what  is  better,  excep- 
tionally devoted  to  his  Master's  work. 

Phalen  still  keeps  the  village  store ;  rapidly 
becoming  a  rich  man  he  has  the  same  kind  heart 
yet,  and  is  ever  ready  to  lend  the  helping  hand. 


mmmmm 


■HMRMM 


■■*• 


i88 


Robbie  Meredith. 


Robbie  reckons  him  among  his  chief  frienc's,  and 
hopes  some  day,  tlirough  Phalen's  boys,  to  repay 
flie  father  for  the  many  kind  acts  done  to  him 
and  his  in  other  years. 
The  story  of  Robbie's  triumph  now  is  ended. 


THX  MXO, 


ESTER  nni 

JUUA  nEIL 
THREE  PEC 
THE  KINCn 
WISE  AND 
IIOVSEnOLl 
THE  RAND' 
FOUR  GIRl 
CUNNINQ 
GRANDPA'. 
JESSIE  W£ 
DOCIA'S  J( 
RERNWa 

THE  i 
HELEN  LI 

PERI 
A  CHRISM 


33Y 


■I»J> 


MODERN 
DR.  DEA 


THOSE  1 
MRS.  DE 


frieiu's,  and 
lys,  to  repay 
done  to  him 

V  is  ended. 


loPULAR  m00k:s. 

BY   •  •  i» jk. 3Jr » ■»■-" 

ESTER  REID, •!" 

JUUA  REID, j"^ 

THREE  PEOPLE,     .          .          •          •          •          *  lan 

THE  KINCrS  DAUanTER,      .          .          .          •  • 
WISE  AND  OTHERWISE,           ...          •          'VI 

HOUSEHOLD  PUZZLES,          .          .          .          •  *• 

THE  RANDOLPHS, ' 

FOUR  GIRLS  AT  CHAUTAUQUA,     '          '          '  \Z 

CUNNING  WORKMEN,      .          •          •          •          '  , « 

GRANDPA'S  DARLINGS,       ,          .          •          •  *-^ 

JESSIE  WELLS, J 

DOCIA'S  JOURNAL 

UERNWS  WIHTE  CIHCKEN;  to  which  U  added, 

THE  DIAMOND  BRACELET,       ...         .78 

HELEN  LESTER ;  to  which  i»  added,  NANNIE'S  EX- 
PERIMENT.     U 

A  CHRISMAS  TIME,      .  •  '  '" 

MODERN  PROPHETS,        .  •  •  •    «1«^ 

DB.  DEANS' 8  WAT,      . 

B-sr  "a-Jk-YM  HVM-TiafTOTOasr." 

THOSE  B0T8,  ..'•'•    •J'^^ 

3fB&  DEANJPa  WAT,   .  .  .  •  ^'^ 

D.  LOTBSOF  ft  00.,  FribllilMn. 


wmmtm 


WIDE  AWAKE  NOTICES. 


i( 


li  '■ 


WiDB  AwAKK.  It  U,  M  usual,  hoiidtomely  Illustrated. 
A  cLarmiug  lunKozlue  for  iLe  young.  Uue  of  tho  Iwst  liuv 
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That  charming  new  magadne  for  girls  and  boys,  the  Widb 
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WiDB  AwAKS  is  welt-named,  for  it  is  certainly  all  atten- 
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contributors,  and  an  equally  brilliant  line  of  engravings.  Is 
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nieuU  Messrs.  Lothrop  A  Co.,  Boston,  the  publishers,  have 
hit  the  young  taste  exactly  in  their  Judicious  arrangements 
for  issuing  this  serial.— 7/ie  CommonwecUth. 

The  WiDB  AwAKK,  the  new  illustrated  magazive  for 
young  people,  published  by  D.  Lothrop  A  Co.,  Boston,  is  the 
very  best  publication  in  our  country,  as  well  as  tho  oheapest. 


During  the  i 
meut  of  wit, 
and  story,  il 
to  the  Wiui 
of  the  day. 
doUara  mor 
magaiiue; 
amount  of 
gtUtt. 

TheWu 

ever-bright 

theory  con 

like  real  IL 

fairies  uul 

earth.    Tl 

bers  man) 

the  contei 

a  iust  esti 

able  skill 

VfWBI 

love  It. 
Now  whl 
to  t,he  foi 
the  eight 
vaa  ever 
Ing.— TK 


..,-'?.)J,'Sll,".liUii&  j%>.-  - 


■a±tMfelaa''i&iJuja!r' 


WIDE  AWAKE  NOTICES. 


ely  Illustrated. 
'  tlio  Iwtt  llo»- 
Kote. 

to  public  yu,tr 
:lilldreii'«  book 

l)oyi,  the  WiDB 
ures  aiiU  read- 
Fortfli,"  "Th« 
Lady's  Christ- 
rella,"  "LitUa 
d  things.  Talk 
ce  de  Ltioii  de- 
.  these  days,  he 
rls'  mogaziues, 
locate. 

duly  all  atten- 
brilliant  list  of 
Bngravings.  Is 
Bye  and  senti- 
ublishers,  have 
1  arrangements 

magaziiie  for 
,  Boston,  Is  the 
18  tho  cheapest. 


During  the  next  year  the  readers  arc  promised  an  entertuUi. 
meut  of  wit,  and  wl.dom,  and  song,  and  poem,  and  plcluro, 
and  story.  Illustrated  by  the  best  artUU.  The  contributors 
to  the  WiUK  AWAKE  aie  some  of  the  most  popular  writers 
of  the  day.  We  know  of  no  way  parenU  could  expend  two 
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TheWiDBAWAJUB  has  entered  on  iU  second  year  with 
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like  real  life-of  boys  and  girls  like  themselves-than  about 
fairies  and  prodigies  such  as  never  had  an  existence  on  this 
earth.    The  list  of  contributors  to  the  WiUK  Awakk  num- 
bers many  names  among  authors  bestloved  by  children,  and 
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a  iu,t  estimate  of  thewanUof  young  readers,  and  remark- 
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Now  while  Wide  Awake  Is  pleasing  in  the  highest  degree 
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the  elght.year-old,  and  grandma  Insists  that  no  other  book 
was  ever  made  like  It,  and  grandma  knows  what  she  is  say- 
Ing.— The  Journal. 


.  -T-  rr-iii""- 


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